


An unexpected courtship

by Signe_chan



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-16 08:41:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3481682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Signe_chan/pseuds/Signe_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo had always felt this strange love for his own sex but such a thing is not permissible among Hobbits. Turns out that's not quite the case among Dwarves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The courtship begins

“What’s going on between Ori and Dwalin?” Bilbo asked, eying them over the rim of his soup bowl. “They’re suddenly awfully close.”

Fili followed the line of his gaze and smiled that little content smile he got when Kili did something particularly clever, or when he looked out over the reconstruction of Erebor and saw that it was going well. Bilbo frowned. He wasn’t sure what such a smile was doing in this conversation.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Kili said, elbowing Bilbo on his other side. “Ori’s finally gotten up the nerve to ask to court Dwalin.”

“They’re courting?” Bilbo squeaked, immediately blushing when a few other members of the company turned to look their way. “But, they’re both men!”

Fili and Kill both cast him disparaging looks that made him feel every inch the small village Hobbit he was. As he’d spent more time away from the Shire he’d learned to avoid those looks, and he wasn’t sure why he deserved one now. Surely Hobbits weren’t alone in, well, not doing that kind of thing.

“Should it matter?” Fili asked, turning back to look at Ori and Dwalin, who were now cuddling as though that kind of thing was perfectly normal. “Ori’s wanted to court Dwalin since before the quest but he was too young. Well, really he’s still too young for Dwalin, but he’d old enough to know his own mind at least and it seems he’s done letting people stop him.”

“Good for him,” Kili chimed in.

“But…” Bilbo said, letting his protest die in his throat. But it was wrong. But it wasn’t the way things were done. But weren’t their families ashamed of them?

He risked another glance, to see Ori smiling up at Dwalin with a look of such of open adoration that it made his heart ache for the young man. He pushed the feeling down ruthlessly. He was a Hobbit, those were not Hobbit kind of feelings.

He turned his eyes down to his bowl of soup and pretended to be engrossed in what he was eating. The conversation carried on around him, his little stumble forgotten. He tried to forget it himself, to label it as another strange Dwarf thing. Goodness knows he’d been exposed to enough of them. But, still, his soup tasted bland and tasteless and he didn’t know why.

***

Bilbo had been thirteen when he first fell in love. Not so young that it wasn’t unheard of, but still too young to do much with it.

He had spent a long, heady summer loving another boy from afar. Bilbo had dreamed about him every night, spent hours mentally writing songs and stories about him. He’d imagined what it would be like for them to kiss.

Moro was an older boy and he’d taken Bilbo’s love for hero worship. He’d allowed Bilbo to tag along when he was playing and Bilbo had done so eagerly, staring on with stars in his eyes as Moro played games and told jokes. He was funny, Moro. And sweet. He never realised Bilbo felt anything but admiration.

It was, as is the way of these things, Bilbo’s mother who worked it out first. Bilbo’s mother who sat him down and explained that having a few feelings for another boy now wasn’t so bad, they were both still so young, but that marriage was a thing for a boy and a girl, not two boys. And that kisses were things shared only with one you might marry.

He’d cried. He’d insisted that his love was true (as every first love it a true love) and his mother stroked his hair and explained to him that it just wasn’t done. That if he persisted in this he’d find himself without a home.

He could think of nothing worse.

His heart fought it for years. He never told his father, where his mother was wild enough to at least be reasonable about it, his father have been raised a Baggins and there were standards. Bilbo argued with his mother frequently, but she never relented. Moro married a pretty girl, Bilbo felt for other boys. He tried to feel for girls, he did, it just wasn’t possible for him.

And then his mother died and with her the only person he’s ever been able to talk to about what was in his heart, even if she couldn’t accept it. He had quietly confined himself to the life of a bachelor. He might not be able to provide her with grandchildren but he knew, for her, the second best thing would be for him to keep his feelings to himself and at least not be thrown from his home.

And he was happy. Or he told himself he was happy. And isn’t that much the same thing?

And then his home was invaded by Dwarves.

***

The thing was, when you traveled with a company for such a long time, that you grew accustomed to each other. You became, well, not unlike a family to each other. You knew each other’s bad habits and dreams and it was very difficult to go from that high level of intimacy back to polite conversation and separate housing in separate parts of the city.

There were many Dwarves in Erebor now, both those who had been native and were now returning and those remaining from the Iron Hills to help with the restoration. They no longer lived in each other’s pockets but, still, the enjoyed their time together. It hadn’t taken long for one of the smaller dining halls to be informally declared their dining hall and most evenings most of the Dwarves would gather there to eat.

The good side of that was that, while Bilbo was still clearly an outsider here among the Dwarves, he never felt alone. The halls were not built for him. And he knew that when the winter had passed and spring warmed the air, he’d likely head back to his own home. But in the meantime, he had this unlikely family to gather around him, to make the days pass more easily.

The down side was that he had no excuse to avoid them. They knew he had no other friends in this mountain, knew he had no pressing business to keep him from their company and no place to go out to, so every evening he was rooted out of his room by one or the other of them to join in.

This wouldn’t be a problem, hadn’t been a problem, but just lately he’d been struggling with the direction of his gaze.

Ori was sat on Dwalin’s lap, looking for all the world like there was no place he’d rather be. They had their heads bent together and they were talking in low voices. There was awe in Dwalin’s expression, as though he wasn’t sure why he had been chosen but he could never regret it.

“I’ll admit,” Dori said, sliding down to sit next to Bilbo and making him jerk, his eyes finally allowing themselves to be torn away from the couple. “They do make quite the odd couple. I had my doubts, of course, but Ori is a strong willed young thing when he wants to be, and who am I to say no to him after he’s proven himself in such a way? I mean, I can hardly treat him like a baby when he helped us re-take Erebor, even if he does choose to court a man so much older than himself. And so different in temperament. And so violent. Still, no need to stare at them so.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Bilbo blushed, forcing his eyes to Dori. “It’s not...I just…”

“I know Dwalin’s a trifle old for him but…”

“It’s not that,” Bilbo said, then quickly found himself at a loss to explain what it was if not that. After all, they all accepted this as normal here. He could hardly explain that it was just so unusual for him to see a man with another man. That it made something inside him feel tight, like he wanted to run or scream or...he didn’t even know. “I just...It’s a cultural interest. I mean, Dwarven courtship seems so different from Hobbit courtship.” It wasn’t a lie. Wasn’t the truth either, just a compromise.

“Oh,” Dori said, his expressing turning contemplative. “I didn’t think about it like that. I suppose you won’t have seen a proper Dwarven courtship before.”

“No,” Bilbo agreed, sighing with relief as Dori accepted the explanation. “I, well, I seem to be stepping constantly on little traditions you all have that I don’t understand. More so here than out on the road. Like, the way the two of them are always hugging. That certainly wouldn’t be done in the Shire!”

“No hugging?” Dori said, shocked. “But how do you become close without hugging?”

“Oh, well, there would be hugging,” Bilbo clarified with a wave of his hand. “Just not like this. When two Hobbits are courting they’re expected to be proper in public. They might hold hands, or share a brief hug, but nothing like that. Which isn’t to say that they might not sneak away for a time to cuddle and such while the family looked the other way, but it wouldn’t be proper.”

“You Hobbits are odd,” Dori said with a little sigh, his irritation at Bilbo staring apparently forgotten. “A Dwarven courtship is all about getting to know someone. After all, we marry only once. You don’t want to marry only to find out that your husband or wife isn’t your one after all. So we must be sure.”

“So you won’t be regulating the time they spend together?”

“Oh, a little, of course,” Dori said with a grin. “Ori’s rather prone to getting ahead oh himself and Dwalin doesn’t seem to have the best judgment where Ori’s concerned. But, mostly, it’s best to leave them to find each other. If they will.”

“They seem to be doing fine,” Bilbo commented, then turned the discussion quickly to the dinner they’d just eaten. Dori seemed content to let him do so and they passed the evening nicely that way.

***

Today, Ori was sat tucked under Dwalin’s arm as they discussed something with Kili. Bilbo had taken to bringing a book into the hall. The others didn’t question it, and if he sat at the right angle he could hold the book so it looked like he was reading, when he was really just watching them together.

He’d tried to stop after Dori had spoken to him, he really had. The thing was, his heart kept betraying him. His eyes wandered without his permission. He didn’t know how to stop it.

As he watched them he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have someone pressed against his side like that. Dwalin looked so happy just to have Ori there, so content. He wondered if it would be the same for him if he were courting another man. If he’d take that simple joy in just looking at his partner. In just knowing they were together.

Or maybe he’d be more like Ori. How wonderful it would be to have a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders. How safe Ori must feel, how secure, to be tucked into that embrace. Someone he cared about holding him so close like that…

A dream. A pleasant dream, but a dream.

He looked down at his book. Absently turned a page and tried to get a hold of the growing coldness inside. No man would hold him like that. He’d never hold another in a lover’s embrace. He was a Hobbit, there were standards. Standards he’d never understood. Standards he’d never chosen for himself, but standards all the same.

With a shock he realised that all he was doing here was yearning. Watching and yearning for things he knew could never be his. That wasn’t right. It wasn’t healthy.

The coldness inside him was the same he’d felt every time he and his mother had fought over him wanting to give a courting gift to a boy. The same coldness he’d felt when he realised Moro would never kiss him sweetly under the rose bushes. He was breaking his own heart by sitting here watching.

He couldn’t take it any more. It was too much.

He closed his book quickly then, after glancing around to see he wasn’t watch, he scampered out of the door and back to his rooms. Better to risk the Dwarves missing him than to sit there and hurt. There was only so much he could be expected to take.

***

“Um, Bilbo, can we talk?”

Bilbo froze for a second and then forced himself to relax. It was Ori. Just Ori. Nothing at all to worry about because it was just regular plain old Ori. Nothing to worry about AT ALL.

“Of course,” he forced himself to say, closing his book. Ori finished coming the rest of the way into Bilbo’s sitting room, closing the door behind himself. Which was good, it meant that nobody else was going to be coming in. It meant that, well…

He’d been trying to be better about the staring, he had. The thing was, the only way to do that was to avoid them. So, well, he’d been avoiding Ori and Dwalin. He hadn’t expected to get away with it for long, so he was willing to graciously accept that he’d lost.

“How have you been?” he asked, hoping to cut any discussion off at the knee. “It feels like a while since I’ve seen you…”

“I know,” Ori said, glumly. “You haven’t been in the library much.”

“No,” Bilbo admitted. It was always a risk; sometimes Dwalin stopped by just to say hello or to share a lunch and then he’d have to run away quickly. It was better to not be there at all. “I’ve been working with the books I have here.”

“But it’s been nearly a week,” Ori pointed out. “And you haven’t been at breakfast.”

“Ah, that,” Bilbo said, glancing back at his desk as though he’d find inspiration there. “Well, I’ve just been so busy with these texts I haven’t really had time…”

“It takes longer to walk down to the kitchen and back,” Ori pointed out most reasonably. “And, well, you’ve been about in the evenings but you keep slipping away, it feels like every time I look around for you, you’re gone.”

He couldn’t skip the evening meal entirely: they’d notice and fetch him. But he’d kept his eyes down, pretended to read, slipped out of the door as soon as nobody was looking. He’d known they’d notice but…

“I just want to know what I’ve done wrong,” Ori said, looking glum now. “Things haven’t been right for a few weeks and I thought, well, I thought maybe we were friends.”

“We are friends,” Bilbo insisted. At least he hoped they still were. “It’s nothing you’ve done, Ori. Trust me.”

“Dwalin said it might be, well, him. Maybe you think we’re not good for each other? Because, well, I can explain to you what I see in him. Or he can talk to you. I mean, I know our relationship is a little unconventional…”

“You don’t need to so that,” Bilbo tried to reassure him. The last thing he needed was Ori bragging about his love. The words would echo around that hollow part inside him for days and he just couldn’t bear that. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Only, you’ve stopped talking to me,” Ori carried on. “It’s just...Dori said you were watching us because it’s not how things are done in the Shire? Is that right?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said, as it was what he’d told Dori.

“Do we make you uncomfortable, being so close? We could try to be more private.”

“Oh no, don’t do that for me,” Bilbo cried, everything in him rebelling at the idea. He didn’t want to have to watch, but he wouldn’t deny Ori a moment of the happiness he seemed to have found. At least one of them should be happy.

“But it’s making you too uncomfortable to look at us.”

“It’s not that,” he said, running his hand through his hair. He wished he’d spent more time thinking of a convenient, pretty lie for this moment. He had, after all, known he’d end up having a conversation very like this when the Dwarves realised he was avoiding them. But he’d been too busy worrying about if they’d notice to plan for when they did and, in the end, all he had was the truth. And if it might stop Ori hurting he had to try.

“The truth is,” he said, leaning forward so he wouldn’t have to look at Ori as he said it. “It’s not the closeness that’s so strange to me. It’s...well, it’s that both of you are men. It’s just something that’s not done in the Shire. Or, well, it’s more that it’s forbidden in the Shire.”

“How strange,” Ori said, there was a hint of curiosity in his voice. “But, what if you meet your one and they’re a man?”

“Hobbits done have ones like Dwarves, maybe that’s why we’re not so permissive. Marriage isn’t always about love either, sometimes it’s just about finding someone you can tolerate to raise children with. A good friend. But it should be about love. I would never marry for anything short of love, why would I tell a girl I’d be her husband if I never truly could be?”

“Bilbo,” Ori said, his voice soft now. “Before you disappeared we noticed you watching us. Was that because you find us strange? But then what changed? I just…was it the only reason?”

Bilbo couldn’t find the words to reply. He knew Ori was a clever Dwarf, that he could probably read between the lines. But he’d never spoken of it, not since his mother had died. He knew well enough the feelings within him were wrong.

“It’s just, well, you talk like marrying any girl would be a lie and it’s something Dori said. He said there was almost a longing in your eyes when you looked at us. He thought you might have been hoping to court one of us, with the way you were looking. Until you told him the other thing.”

“I wasn’t hoping to court either of you,” Bilbo admitted. And that was true.

“But there was someone you wanted to court?”

“Everyone finds someone they want to court sometime,” Bilbo said, trying to force a laugh. “I...yes, there have been people I wanted to court.”

“Male people?”

“Yes.” Bilbo admitted, the word barely a whisper. “I am so sorry, Ori. It’s just that every time I’m around you I can’t seem to stop looking and it makes me think how easy it could be. How many years I’ve spent alone and how I shall go back there and be alone again and never know for myself what it’s like to have a partner.”

“You don’t need to go back.”

“I do,” he said, straightening up. He didn’t realise he’d let a few tears spill until he sat back and felt the unexpected coldness of them running down his face. He reached and wiped aggressively at his eyes. “I...I am a Baggins of Bag End and I need to return there. In the spring. So there’s no use even thinking about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Ori said, and he sounded it. Bilbo risked a glance over and the young man looked wretched. Wretched enough that Bilbo forced a shaky smile for his sake. Reached over and clasped his hand.

“It’s not your fault, Ori. I’m happy for you. I truly am. I just...my heart is only small and it wants things it can’t have. That’s not your problem. You should enjoy your courtship, it seems to make you happy.”

“Yes,” Ori said, thought he sounded almost reluctant to admit it. “Look, I’m sure if we spoke to the others...”

“I’d rather we didn’t,” Bilbo interrupted. “I just...I’ll be alright. I’ll come to dinner tonight and I’ll be fine, I will. I just can’t bear for them to look at me with pity in their eyes. I’d rather they not know.”

“I’ll try to keep the confidence,” Ori said, which wasn’t the most reassuring thing but Bilbo supposed it was the best he could give. “I really think they won’t pity you, though. They’re a very open minded lot, on the whole. Very resourceful.”

“Still,” Bilbo stood. “I’d rather not test it. I am sorry, Ori, but can you give me a little time? I’ll see you at dinner, but I do need to clean up.”

“Of course,” Ori stood. He fussed with his hands for a second before leaning in and giving Bilbo a hug. Bilbo returned it as best he could, smiling a genuine smile. He hadn’t wanted to admit that, it had been painful, but at least it seemed like things between the two of them were fixed.

***

As it turned out, Bilbo might as well have not bothered extracting the promise. When he came into the hall for dinner he saw that Ori was lost in thought, a slight frown on his lips. Ori was sat at Dwalin’s side, but the two of them weren’t touching and Bilbo felt several sets of eyes on him immediately.

Dwalin, Dori, Nori. Ori had probably told them all he intended to talk to Bilbo. They obviously presumed he’d said or done something to make Ori feel self-conscious, which he certainly hoped he hadn’t, though he couldn’t deny that he was probably the cause on the change in Ori’s behavior.

He went and sat by Thorin. Thorin was always a safe bet. He’d been too busy with reconstruction to be much of a friend recently but Bilbo understood that. He had many apologies to make and things to put right from the time he’d been affected by the gold sickness. Bilbo wasn’t the only one he’d wronged. Still, Thorin smiled for him when he drew close, shifted along the bench to make him a space.

“How are you, your majesty?” Bilbo said, his tone light and teasing. Thorin rolled his eyes. He’d banned used of his title among the company soon after they had been properly restored to Erebor.

“I am well,” he said, though he didn’t look it. He looked tired. Worn. The impulse to reach up and comfort him, touch his hair, press a kiss to his brow, take some of the burden for a short time, was an old one but it seemed harder than usual to suppress. “And you. I see you’ve stopped avoiding us.”

“I see you have,” Dori drawled from behind them. Bilbo winced; maybe Thorin wasn’t such a deterrent to an older brother who thought his younger brother had been hurt. “What, exactly, have you said to our Ori?”

“Nothing you would disapprove of,” Bilbo said, stiffly.

“Well, all I know is that he went to clear the air with you and now he doesn’t seem to want to touch Dwalin.”

Bilbo thought about saying something about how Dori had apparently blocked Ori from starting this courtship for some time, how odd it was for him to become it’s staunchest defender, but he bit it back. He would not be petty here.

“I told him nothing that would make him want to end his courtship, if that’s what you’re implying. We talked about Hobbit traditions, that’s all.”

“Hobbit traditions,” Dori said, skepticism dripping in his tone. “Which hobbit traditions exactly?”

“Dori, stop it!”

It was Ori, intervening from all the way across the table, that drew Bilbo’s attention to just how quiet the room had become. All eyes were trained on him. Oh goodness. He sighed. They’d all noticed, which meant that, one after the other, they’d come after him for an answer. He doubted they’d all be as confrontational as Dori but, well, how could he expect them to trust him in this when he couldn’t give a proper answer?

He glanced over at Thorin who was looking at him curiously. Most of the others were curious. Not angry, yet. They wanted to know. He had been acting oddly, he supposed.

“It’s not too intrusive a question,” Dori said, puffing up his chest. “What Hobbit traditions were you talking about?”

“I’m just thinking on something Bilbo said in confidence,” Ori insisted.

“It’s alright,” Bilbo said, standing slowly. “It’s alright. Look, I know you all think Hobbits most strange but, well, sometimes I think you lot a little odd too. You often do things that would be frowned upon in the Shire, though I’ve grown to have no quarrel with them. I must tell you that one of the things the Shire frowns upon is a courtship between two men.”

The Dwarves looked at each other in confusion. There was a low murmur of conversation, as though some of them didn’t quite understand the concept that someone might object. Before he could think where to enter into the next part of his story, Thorin, who looked a little more understanding, intervened.

“And you? Do you believe it’s a thing that should be be done?”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t agree with that part of Shire custom,” Bilbo said, smiling his thanks to Thorin for the entrance. “Have never agreed with it, honestly. In fact, it is the reason I’ve never married. It wouldn’t be fair to court a woman when I’ve only ever had eyes for men. That’s what I told Ori. I certainly wouldn’t wish him any ill will for finding the happiness I never managed to get for myself.”

For a half second there was silence and then it was like the room as a whole let out of breath. The Dwarves were smiling, relaxing, hands falling away from where they’d instinctively come to lie on weapons.

“That makes sense,” Dwalin said. Bilbo looked over to find him visibly relaxed. “Though why didn’t you just say?”

“Well,” Bilbo said, flushing a little. “I suppose I didn’t want you to think badly of me. A middle aged Hobbit who had never married is bad enough, one who has never even courted...?”

“What a thing to think,” Fili said with a laugh. “Like we’d think any less of you for that!”

Ori had relaxed now, leaning into Dwalin’s side and apparently the conversation was over as the others began to start their own discussions. Dori stopped briefly to apologize, all his bluster gone. Bilbo forgave him readily, reassured him that there was really nothing to forgive. After all, he might have done the same thing if he thought one of the others had caused offense.

Then he let himself be drawn back into conversation with Thorin, though he still couldn’t quite let himself relax. Every so often he would catch a mention of his name from around the table and he couldn’t help but think maybe this wasn’t all over yet.

***

“Thorin, I need you to talk to the other Dwarves.”

Bilbo was at his wit’s end. He should have known better than to say anything. He should have just let them think what they wanted to think. He should have known better than to think a group of Dwarves, especially this group of Dwarves, could behave reasonably.

Thorin slowly unfolded himself from the desk, and it occurred to Bilbo then that it was possible Thorin had something more important to be doing. Just maybe. But Thorin had already turned and was looking at him with grave intent, and when Thorin had that expression on his face there was no turning it away.

“What is it you need me to talk to them about?”

“Well,” Bilbo said, suddenly feeling quite foolish. He was sure Thorin had probably been doing something very important. “The thing is, they’re all being rather odd.”

“How so?” Thorin asked, staring at him intensely. Bilbo had never stood up well under that stare but he made an attempt to rally.

“Yesterday, Nori brought me breakfast. And then Bofur offered to clean my rooms. They’re all just being very...nice?”

He wanted to quake under Thorin’s gaze as it had apparently turned to steel. Though, after staring at Bilbo for a second, a hint of understanding flickered there.

“You don’t understand what they’re trying to do by these gestures?” Thorin asked.

“Well, at first I thought it was pity because of, well, what I told you all the other evening. And there’s really no need for that. But now it doesn’t feel like pity. It feels like...I don’t know…”

“They’re attempting to court you,” Thorin said, and as soon as he said it, well, it all made sense. Or a kind of sense. Dwarven sense.

“Oh goodness,” he said, hand coming up to his mouth. “I hope I haven’t accepted any of them.”

“Have you kissed any of them?” Thorin asked. Even thinking about it made Bilbo blush and he shook his head quickly, like his denial could dispel the accusation. “Then you haven’t accepted any of them. Yet.”

“And I don’t intend to,” Bilbo said indignantly. It was possible it came out as more of a squeak. “How could you think such things?”

“There are no traditions or laws here preventing you and another male courting, why not enjoy it?”

“Because it would be unfair,” Bilbo said, tucking his hands under his arms. “After all, I intend to return to the Shire in the spring. It wouldn’t be right for me to court a Dwarf and then run away and leave them here. What if, well, what if there were feelings? I’d much rather we all parted as friends.”

Bilbo had probably imagined the flash of hurt in Thorin’s eyes when he spoke about returning home. Almost definitely.

“There is a sense to that,” Thorin agreed. “But I can’t say I can fault what the company are doing. You’re not an unattractive creature, they don’t like to think that nobody has ever tried to show you that.”

“You are a master of words,” Bilbo said with a roll of his eyes. “And I don’t need the pity of Dwarves.”

“It’s not pity,” Thorin said, quickly. “We do not pity, as a rule. They see a friend who has never had something wonderful, something they can give him, and they want to provide it. Tell me we did not see hurt in your eyes when you spoke of not having been courted.”

Bilbo could not, of course, tell Thorin that. He stood there quietly, letting the accusation hang in the air between them. Thorin let the silence linger for a few seconds then stood. Bilbo almost jumped when large, careful hands came to clasp his shoulders.

“Let one of us court you as you deserve to be courted, Mister Baggins. Then when you return to your hole you might at least take some good memories of being treasured.”

“One of us...you mean you…”

He looked up in time to see the faint blush across Thorin’s cheeks. A very endearing blush he was sure the King would deny later.

“I would not be an unwise choice,” he said, slowly. “I am old, I know, but it means you stand no chance of inflaming young passions and of my falling for you too quickly and believing myself in love as some of the younger members of the company might. I have my responsibilities here, I understand that you have yours in the Shire so, while I might not like it, I will accept when you leave. And I would court you most intently.”

As Thorin said this his hand drifted up to touch Bilbo’s cheek and Bilbo felt his heart clench like he was stood on the edge of a precipice.

“Of course,” Thorin said, his voice unusually deep. “You must talk to the others first.”

He made no move to take his hand back. Bilbo made no move to, well, move. His choice was already made for him, he knew. In a way he was a fool as he could see how this would end badly but; at the same time he could have this. Even if only for a time. And maybe Thorin was right. Maybe when he was back at Bag End with his books and his cobwebs, he’d remember how it felt to be held in Thorin’s embrace and be happy.

“I don’t need to talk to the others,” Bilbo said. “How do I accept, again?”

“You would have to kiss me,” Thorin said, his eyes locked with Bilbo’s. Bilbo had to stand on the tips of his toes to do it but he did. His first kiss, a gently brush of lips, strange with the tickling of Thorin’s beard against his skin.

When he drew back Thorin was grinning at him and he had only a second to be amazed at his own bravado before Thorin leant in and kissed him again, long and hot and wet, and he knew then that he was in a lot of trouble.

***

Bilbo thought that, really, he was doing well in that he made it all the way back to his own chambers before the panic set in. After all, he was now courting Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain. He’d eaten his evening meal at Thorin’s side, Thorin’s arm around him, Thorin’s attention on him. It had left him breathy and wanting more.

He hadn’t thought about Thorin that way before. Of course not, he hadn’t thought about anybody in that way in a long time. He just hadn’t. But he might have pointedly not thought about Thorin that way a few times. Possibly. There was undeniably something about Thorin…

But, honestly, more than the part where his partner was a King, what had him lying in bed unable to sleep was the fact he’d committed himself to a courtship.

A tiny part of him was obsessing around the idea that maybe he was wrong. Maybe the rules he’d grown up with were there for a reason and there was a point to his being denied this all his life, when it seemed so normal to the Dwarves. After all, his mother had loved him. They’d argued but she’d loved him. She’d be so disappointed to see him now.

But it was only for a little while. Surely a small courtship couldn’t hurt. It had felt so wonderful, to be the center of someone’s attention like that.

But as soon as he quieted that fear he would remember the kind of courtship he’d committed himself to. A Dwarven courtship. A courtship from an entirely different culture. Anything could be involved. He had no idea what he’d signed up for.

Which led, of course, back to the idea that he should never have agreed to this at all. A horrible spiral or anxiety and regret. It was a very long night.

***

“Ah, here you are,” Fili said, flopping down beside Bilbo. Bilbo shifted along the bench to make room but Kili quickly flopped down on Bilbo’s other side, caging him in. He sighed, leaning back against the wall and allowing the two boys to bracket him.

He’d thought he’d be safe in the library but he should have known that, in the long run, nowhere was safe. There are always Dwarves to find you and he’d seen a few of them throwing him inquisitive looks last night, as he sat tucked close to Thorin’s side. He couldn’t say he was surprised that Fili and Kili had been the first to find him: they always seemed to want to know what was going on with their companions.

“You can be a hard Hobbit to find,” Kili said, swinging an arm around Bilbo’s shoulder. “And since you’re courting our Uncle we’re almost related now, so that’d be bad form.”

“It’s only a little courting,” Bilbo protested.

“Only a little courting,” Kili scoffed.

“It’s almost like he doesn’t know,” Fili finished of with an overly theatrical roll of his eyes.

“As if I don’t know what?”

“About Dwarven courtship traditions,” Kili started.

“Very strict.”

“Must be observed.”

“Oh, I see what you’re doing,” Bilbo said, pulling away. “You’re making fun of me. Because I don’t know your ways. That’s it.”

“Would we do that?” Kili asked, doing his best to look innocent. Unfortunately, though he had the face for it, he lacked something in the execution.

“We just want to help you,” Fili said, his concerned face a little more sincere. “After all, with all the intricacies and such…”

“We wouldn’t want you to accidentally offend Uncle.”

“I’m sure Thorin would forgive any offense I unintentionally caused.”

“Maybe,” Fili conceded. “But isn’t it better not to take the risk? I bet you haven’t even thought about the gifts?”

“What gifts?”

“He doesn’t even know about the gifts, Fili.”

“Don’t worry,” Fili said, throwing his arm around the back of both of them and crushing Bilbo. “This is why you need our help. You’ve got to give the correct gifts in the correct order, of course.”

“And since Uncle technically already owns most of the things in this mountain that’ll be challenging.”

“You’re trying to trick me,” Bilbo said, ignoring the twist of doubt in his gut that was pointing out that he’d feared just this. He’d lay awake wondering, hoping the process would be easy. If it was intricate. If there was an order to things and he could get it wrong…

“Well,” Kili said with a cheeky grin. “Now we have your attention we’ll tell you all about it.”

***

“I thought we would last more that one day into this courtship before I was forced to come and unearth you from your chambers,” Thorin said, stepping past Bilbo into his room. Bilbo spluttered for a second, awed at the rudeness of it all, then let the door slip closed behind him. After all, he did need to talk to Thorin, so throwing him out for rudeness would achieve nothing.

“Yes, about that,” he said, storming over to where Thorin was making himself comfortable by the fire without so much as a by your leave. “Well, I’ve been thinking and…”

“And my sister sons have said something stupid that has made you change your mind,” Thorin said, leaning forward and putting his elbows onto his knees, his expression stern. “They haven’t said anything to me, of course, but I have known them long enough to know the guilty faces they cast at your empty seat. I have also known them long enough to know that they almost certainly did not intend to drive you away.”

“It wasn’t them,” Bilbo lied. “It was, well, we’re just too different. A Dwarf and a Hobbit. It’s just ridiculous.”

“I don’t think it’s ridiculous,” Thorin said, reaching for Bilbo’s hand. Bilbo dodged back, keeping himself to himself. He’d already discovered that he tended to become compromised in Thorin’s arms so he intended to avoid them. “What, exactly, did they tell you?”

“Nothing,” Bilbo insisted. “Or, well, nothing that affected this decision.”

“Then I think you owe me an explanation as to why you are rejecting me without giving me a fair chance.”

“It’s not like there’s really a chance,” Bilbo said, gesturing as though to encompass the situation. “This is only temporary, and what’s the point in becoming involved in some kind of complicated Dwarven courtship when I’m not even going to stay here? When it all leads to nothing? Better for us to be friends and not bother.”

“You believe Dwarven courtships are complicated?” Thorin asked, latching on to exactly the part of the conversation Bilbo hadn’t expected him to. “Is that what my sister sons told you?”

“They may possibly have mentioned something like that. In passing.”

“They may possibly have lied to you,” Thorin said with a sigh. “They likely intended it as a joke. Come here and let me tell you about Dwarven courtships.”

“And how will I know you’re telling me the truth?” Bilbo asked, though he drifted closer. He had to admit that, well, maybe trusting Fili and Kili was not his best move. They had seemed quite, well, merry.

“I plan to court you,” Thorin said with a shrug and an extended hand. “It would serve me nothing to lie to you about what to expect.”

Bilbo hesitated for a second longer, then reached over and took Thorin’s hand. He allowed the other man to guide him forward and maneuver him until he was sat upon Thorin’s lap. There was something strangely comforting about being so close and he allowed his arm to fall about Thorin’s neck, keeping them together. He’d seen Ori and Dwalin sit like this on occasion and felt a slight thrill to finally be experiencing it for himself.

“Now, let me see,” Thorin said, tightening his arms around Bilbo. “As you know, Dwarves love only once, marry only once, so the point of a courtship is to be absolutely certain that the two are compatible, that it is love. For that reason nobody may court before they come of age, obviously, and courtships are normally long. A year is normal though up to ten years and longer aren’t unheard of.”

“That seems a terribly long time,” Bilbo admitted. “Hobbit courtships last months, in the most part. Though I suppose we all grow up together, there’s nobody new, so it’s not like you don’t already know the person you’re courting.”

“As we court, I’ll expect to spend a lot of time with you. Mainly in the communal areas though we are adults so nobody will frown at my being here now. I could be trusted alone in a room with you yesterday, that has not changed. We would be expected to talk, to grow comfortable with each other and know each other.

“There are more formalised elements. I would be expected to sing for you, as the courting grows more intense. There is traditionally an element of ritual fighting though many modern courtships skip that and I believe it would be appropriate to do so in our case. And, of course, I must prove myself a good husband for you so I would be expected to perform simple services for you. I may clean your room of prepare food, though you might rather I didn’t.”

“I’m sure it’d be lovely,” Bilbo said, flushing. It sounded lovely. Much less structured than what the brothers had told him to expect. He could certainly invest in the idea of really coming to know Thorin. “Fili and Kili said there was a lot more ritual. Exchange of gifts and such.”

“Only one,” Thorin said, his face taking on a serious tone. “If I wished to end the courtship successfully, to ask for marriage, I would present you with a gift. To accept it would be to accept the proposal. Of course, we do not intended to take things so far, and if we did, to reject a gift might only mean you felt you needed more time to court. My sister, Dis, rejected two gifts before accepting marriage.”

“To refuse a proposal in the Shire would be a thing of great insult,” Bilbo said, relaxing into Thorin’s embrace despite himself.

“Not so here,” Thorin said. “Here, we worry the most on being sure. Nobody would want to marry and then regret their decision. There could be no worse thing.”

“This all sounds very pleasant,” Bilbo said, letting himself smile. Maybe it really could be this simple. Maybe it really could just be spending time with Thorin and enjoying it. Maybe the two of them were both owed some luck. “What about if I want to stop the courtship?”

“Then you talk to me,” Thorin said with a shrug. “I’m not unreasonable.” There was a pause for all the words they couldn’t say about the times Thorin had been entirely unreasonable. Then it passed. “If you truly came to me and told me this courtship brought you no joy I would let you go. But I don’t believe that to be true.”

“No,” Bilbo admitted, blushing a little. “I mean, well, when I’m not tying myself up in knots about it, well, it does seem rather nice.”

“I shall take that as a high compliment,” Thorin said with a grin. “Now come, as you avoided us as dinner I presume you haven’t eaten. Bombur will have kept some food back for you.”

“That’s the best suggestion I’ve heard all night,” Bilbo said with a laugh. He felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Maybe he would enjoy this after all. “Though I can think of one thing that might be better.”

“And what would that be?” Thorin said, his smile betraying that he already had some idea what Bilbo might suggest. Bilbo smiled, gathered all his courage, and leaned in for a kiss.


	2. The middles are always the worst

Bilbo thought that, on balance, he was doing quite well at adjusting to the entire courtship thing. It had, after all, been a month now and he had managed to avoid any major rows and, well, he was happy. He really was, in a lot of ways. Thorin was nothing if not attentive. Extremely so. They sat together at every meal. Thorin seemed to take great pleasure in holding him, singing to him, caring for him. Really, he was ungrateful to complain and he was bearing it well.

The thing was, well, the entire thing was starting to make him feel a little...well...why did it always have to be Thorin who held him? He knew full well that Thorin could hardly sit on his lap, Bilbo would be squashed under Thorin where Thorin bore Bilbo’s weight well, but there were other things. Sometimes he just thought…

Ori and Dwalin swapped. Not often, of course, for many of the same reasons. It was simple for Ori to fit on Dwalin’s arms, with the size difference, in much the same way it was simple for Bilbo to fit in Thorin’s. But, sometimes, you’d see Ori hold the door for Dwalin. Or Ori sit with his arm around Dwalin. Or Ori serving them food at the table. So it wasn’t against Dwarven tradition or any such nonsense. It was just Thorin.

And, honestly, it was beginning to make Bilbo feel a little underestimated. A little, well, emasculated. He was clearly not as physically strong as Thorin but that didn’t mean he had nothing to offer.

And it certainly didn’t mean he couldn’t tidy up after himself.

“Thorin, you put that back right now,” he said, perhaps a little more sharply than was warranted but, really, what was he to think when he came into his bed chambers to find someone handling his, well, his unmentionables!

Thorin gave him a puzzled look as though he had no idea at all what Bilbo might be objecting to and continued moving Bilbo’s dirty washing to a box, presumably to take it away and wash it and, really, there was a limit! He did not need the King under the Mountain to wash his clothing for him.

Thorin looked thoroughly confused when Bilbo stormed over and snatched the box, turning and dumping it at the end of his bed. Bilbo then positioned himself firmly between Thorin and the box because, really, this was quite enough.

“What’s wrong?” Thorin asked, a smile on his face like he found Bilbo being so flustered quite charming and amusing.

“I do not need you to do this,” Bilbo said, trying for his most assertive voice. The voice he’d used to evict Lobelia Sackville-Baggins from his home when she came round for tea and refused to leave. Thorin carried on smiling at him as though he was the most adorable thing to ever crawl out of the Shire.

Bilbo saw red.

“I’m only taking care of you,” Thorin said, reaching forward to stroke his hair. Bilbo dodged the hand quickly.

“Well, yes, I know,” he said, stepping back out of Thorin’s range. “And I appreciated it at first but, Thorin, I am a grown man. More than that, I’m middle aged. I have long grown out of any rush of affection I might have ever felt about someone else doing my washing for me, it’s entirely unnecessary.”

“It’s showing I care.”

“And I understand that you care,” Bilbo insisted. Which he did. “And it was very nice at first, it really was. I enjoyed it. But I am more than old enough to take care of some things for myself. I don’t need you to do this.”

“But I want to,” Thorin said, and at least he was looking confused now and not just blissfully oblivious. “Bilbo, I don’t understand why this is suddenly a problem.”

“It’s not that it’s suddenly a problem,” Bilbo insisted. “It’s been a problem for some time but I didn’t want to create issues so I kept it to myself but, really Thorin, this has gone on quite long enough. I’m not an invalid.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Thorin said, and he certainly wasn’t smiling now. “I told you that as part of our courtship I’d take care of things for you.”

“I didn’t think you meant you’d do all my laundry all the time.”

“Do you really enjoy doing the laundry?”

“No,” Bilbo said, “I hate it. That’s not the point. The point is that it’s my job and I should do it. I don’t need you to do things like this for me.”

“It would be no trouble…”

“Just get out,” Bilbo said in frustration, gesturing at the door. “Go. I need...I will be doing my own chores from now on.”

“If you insist,” Thorin said, having the audacity to look confused while he did it. At least he did go, shutting the door behind him and Bilbo gave out a shaky sigh, turning to go through his washing. He really did hate doing it but it was better than Thorin treating him like he was incapable.

Not that Thorin understood what he was cross about, of course. Stupid stubborn Dwarf. Bilbo would just have to make it perfectly clear to him what it was he found so unacceptable. He couldn’t continue on like this, it was humiliating. He was a grown hobbit and it was about time Thorin treated him like one.

He was going to insist on it and if Thorin didn’t understand when then Bilbo would MAKE him understand.

***

Once Bilbo had made a decision, he found the best thing to do was start as he meant to go on. After all, if he were to give in and go crawling back to Thorin’s arms now then he might as well just give up on the entire thing and, honestly, he was still angry enough that he didn’t want to be held.

Besides, one of the down sides of their courtship was that he’d hardly had time to talk to some of his other friends. It wasn’t that he’d had to be at Thorin’s side all the time but he had been rather drawn there. But not today. Today he was going to have some space.

The hall was alive with noise when he let himself in. He’d hoped that entering a little late would be less conspicuous and it seemed he was in luck. After a few glances in his direction to confirm he was someone who belonged there, the Dwarves mostly went back to their own conversations. Which was good. He spotted Bofur over by the fire and headed over for a chat, standing around with him. Nobody questioned it, though he caught Thorin looking his way a few times over the course of the conversation.

And then Bombur was coming in, heavy pot of stew on a tray in front of him.

And now it was time for the maneuvering. They all began to head to the table, conversation still flowing. Bilbo kept up the conversation with Bofur, following him to the table. He paused, standing until Bofur sat down and then, quickly, slid onto the bench next to him.

Bofur stopped talking.

“What?” Bilbo asked, glancing around the table. The only other Dwarf who’d noticed his change in seating so far was Thorin and he looked stricken.

“Are you not courting Thorin any more?”

“Of course I am,” Bilbo scoffed. “We aren’t talking at the moment, that’s all. I thought he could use some space. And I wanted to continue our conversation, of course.”

“And that’s very nice,” Bofur agreed. “But if you’re courting you should really go sit with him. Bit of a scandal if you don’t.”

“It’s all just a bit overbearing,” Bilbo tried to explain, glancing down the table to find Thorin still staring at him. “I used to spend a lot of time with the rest of you. Now, some days I feel like I’m only meant to talk to Thorin.”

“And we can talk again after dinner, but it’s proper for you to sit with him for the meal.”

“Oh fine,” Bilbo said, standing with a sigh. He didn’t really want Thorin clinging to him at the moment but at the same time he had no desire to embarrass Thorin, or anything of that kind. He certainly wouldn't want to give the impression that he didn’t want to court Thorin, as the truth was he was very fond of him most of the time. He just wished Thorin could treat him a little more like an adult.

Thorin didn’t comment when Bilbo came to sit by him, though he did look stern. He raised an arm to place around Bilbo’s shoulder and Bilbo quickly shrugged it away, shifting to put a little space between them. Others were watching now, talking among themselves. He hated that they had to have an audience.

“Have I done something to offend you?” Thorin asked.

“I just want a little space,” Bilbo said, letting himself shift a little closer, gratified when Thorin didn’t immediately touch him. “I don’t need to be held all the time, you know. I lasted many years without your arms around me.”

“Yes,” Thorin agreed. “But we’re courting.”

“Ori and Dwalin often sit without touching,” that was a lie and he knew it. They did sometimes but it was a rare occasion. “Well, at times, anyway.”

“Yes,” Thorin agreed, shifting uncomfortably. He looked strangely as though he didn’t know what to do with himself. “But, well, don’t you enjoy when I hold you?”

“Most of the time,” Bilbo said, “Just not today. I wouldn’t mind holding you instead…”

“That'd be unseemly,” Thorin said, stiffening. “I’m a King.”

“A King among friends,” Bilbo reminded him. “They don’t think any less of Dwalin that he lets Ori hold him.”

“No,” Thorin said, though he looked deeply unconvinced. “But, no. There are boundaries.”

“Suit yourself,” Bilbo said, accepting a bowl of stew that was passed his way. He passed the next one to Thorin who took it without comment. Bilbo just tucked in to the food, content to eat and ignore him. If Thorin did think that being held was something that would somehow lower him then maybe he should stop insisting Bilbo be held.

The meal seemed somehow subdued and when, after they’d eaten, he drifted over to talk to Bombur, nobody commented but he felt many pairs of eyes watching him.

***

“What is it?” Bilbo said, pulling his door open. He’d been deep in a good book when the knocking started and he very much resented being disturbed. He was surprised to find Thorin on his doorstep looking sheepish. “Since when did you knock?” he asked before his brain could match pace with his mouth.

“I thought that, since you’re angry with me, you might appreciate the right to turn me away at the threshold.”

“That I just might,” Bilbo grumbled, remembering the uncomfortable dinner of the night before. “That depends entirely on why you’re here.”

“I thought that I might sing for you,” Thorin said. He looked strangely uncertain, it wasn’t a good look on him. “You seemed to enjoy the parts of the courtship that involved singing and since you won’t let me clean for you…”

“Maybe I could go to your rooms and clean for you,” Bilbo suggested.

“That’s unnecessary,” Thorin said, frowning. “Servant’s work. You aren’t a servant to me.”

“And you are not a servant to me and I am perfectly capable of cleaning my own room. If this is the mood you’re in I don’t think I want to let you in after all.”

“I am not your servant but I am courting you,” Thorin said, slowly, as though explaining to an idiot. “Will you please let me in? I know I’ve upset you but I can’t do anything to fix that until you let me in.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Bilbo said, crossing his arms. “You see, as far as I’m concerned, if you’re courting me I’m courting you and I don’t see why it’s all going one way.”

“Is this about my not allowing you to hold me at dinner? I have explained, I am a King. It’s not done.”

“And why?”

Thorin didn’t have an answer to that: he simply scowled as though he didn’t even like being forced to contemplate the question. Bilbo couldn’t help but sigh. He had hoped they’d resolve some of this, at least, but it seemed it wasn’t to be.

“Go away and think on it, oh King,” he said. “And when you can come up with a good reason I might listen to you again.”

He stepped back quickly and shut the door before Thorin could reply, sliding the bolt into place. As he returned to his book he couldn’t help think that it might have been nice to have Thorin here with him while he read, but he had a point to make and he couldn’t weaken on it now.

***

Bilbo didn’t fight the inevitable that evening, moving as soon as he came in to sit on the bench where he always sat with Thorin. Thorin did not immediately move to join him which probably meant he was still thinking about what Bilbo had said earlier. That or he’d decided Bilbo was too much trouble and, well, maybe he was right.

Maybe they’d have been better just never courting at all.

He helped himself to a mug of ale from the pitcher in the middle of the table while he waited. Conversation was subdued, as it had been the night before. Thorin was lurking by the fire, very intently not looking at him, and Bilbo left him to his peace for now.

He scanned the room, taking them all in. Dori was chatting with Bifur over some ale. Bofur was carving something. And on a bench by the far wall Ori was sat with his arm around Dwalin. They seemed to be having a very intense conversation, which he was glad to say he couldn’t hear any of. What was clear, though, was that Ori was doing the comforting.

And that he was longing again.

But wouldn’t it be wonderful to have Thorin lean on him like that? Not just the physical thing but, well, he knew he didn’t have much first hand experience, but he’d seen enough relationships to know they never worked when they were unequal.

He couldn’t help but feel a little thrill at the idea that he might be able to comfort Thorin. That Thorin might be able to turn to him in times of need and that together they would be able to face whatever it was. And he could, he knew. He thought he’d trained Thorin out of underestimating him but it seemed that courtship had set them right back to square one.

He couldn’t go back to square one. He just couldn’t. He valued Thorin’s friendship too much - they had the potential to build something so much stronger and he KNEW he was going back to the Shire, but if they were going to do this courtship they should do it right.

He had things he could contribute. He wasn’t content to just be doted on.

Of course, Thorin chose that moment to come and sit down beside him.

For a second they were awkward; then Thorin moved to embrace him. Bilbo shifted away, casting Thorin a disparaging look and the other man dropped his arm.

“I see you are still upset with me.”

“Have you thought about what I said?”

Thorin didn’t reply but he did withdraw, shifting to sit further away, and something in Bilbo twisted at that. Something wanted to apologise, to huddle close. The last thing he’d wanted to do was hurt Thorin but, at the same time, he was making an important point.

He had to stay strong. If he did, they’d be better for it.

***

Bilbo was all fired up for a fight when he opened the door. Thorin had been ignoring him since the night before and he’d had trouble sleeping, all the things he wanted to say rushing around in his head. It was clear that he was going to have to do something, anyway.

Some of this must have shown on his face as, when he opened the door, Dori actually backed up a step. Bilbo had a second to wonder if Thorin would have been a surprised before his anger was replaced by embarrassment.

“Oh, oh dear,” he said, frowning. “I didn’t expect you.”

“That is clear,” Dori said with a tentative smile. “Might I come in?”

“Oh, of course,” Bilbo said, drawing back to let him through. “Can I get you a drink?”

“That’s alright,” Dori said, sitting himself down in front of Bilbo’s fire in the most comfortable chair. “I won’t keep you long. I just noticed that you and Thorin seemed to be having a little bit of a bad patch.”

“You might say that,” Bilbo said, cautiously. “Not that I really think it’s anyone's business but our own.”

“No, of course not,” Dori agreed. “But with you being so new to Dwarven courtship I thought maybe you’d appreciate a little advice. Or a sounding board, anyway. You seem discontent.”

“Just a little tired of being treat like an invalid is all,” Bilbo said, trying to force himself to sound cheerful. “I don’t believe treating one of the pair as if they have broken legs is a necessary part of Dwarven courtship.”

“No, it’s not,” Dori agreed, a little sparkle in his eye. “I had noticed Thorin becoming a little overbearing. I was wondering how much you’d take.”

“Well, this is my limit,” Bilbo said with a firm nod.

“Have you spoken to Thorin about it?”

“He doesn’t seem to understand,” Bilbo said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I have tried to explain to him but he seems intent on misinterpreting things. Sometimes it’s almost as though we speak different languages.”

“Sometimes, it must be like you do,” Dori said, contemplatively. “I mean, with the cultural difference and such. Thorin is just trying to care for you, after all, in the best way he knows how.”

“He’d treating me like a child,” Bilbo grumbled. “I’d grown to think that you all respected me. Or at least that I’d done some things to prove my worth to you. I’m seeing less and less of that respect from him every day.”

“It’s not that he doesn’t respect you,” Dori said, his tone taking on something of a paternal air that Bilbo wasn’t sure he liked. “He’s just, well…”

“I don’t want to hear excuses,” Bilbo said, intent on stopping this before it really got going. “I’m not asking for the world, for him to change his entire way of life. All I want is a little more equality in this relationship.”

A voice boomed out “You believe I do not treat you with respect?”

Bilbo froze, though Dori seemed less surprised by the interruption. They both turned to see Thorin standing in the doorway, looking more dangerous than Bilbo had seen him in some time. The smile was gone from his face and his eyes were sharp enough to cut. The Baggins part of him wanted to back down now for an easy life but he was half-Took and it was the Took half that had started this.

“I suppose that’s one way to say it,” he said, standing up and turning. “Is privacy an invention of Hobbits, then? I don’t remember giving you permission to open my door whenever you want.”

“I heard you and another person talking,” Thorin said, as though that excused something. “And I opened your door to find you more eager to talk about our problems to someone else than to me.”

“I’ve talked to you,” Bilbo said, forcing his voice to be calm. “I’ve talked to you and you’ve walked away from me. You’ve misunderstood me. It’s nice to talk to someone who’s actually listening.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to court me?”

“I’m not saying that at all,” Bilbo yelled, giving in to the temptation to raise his voice. “I’m saying I want you to treat me like an adult capable of caring for myself. I thought you thought of me that way.”

“I thought you wanted to be courted. I thought I was treating you well but in a heartbeat you turn from receptive to pushing me away every time I approach you. Do you not want me any more?”

“I do!” Bilbo exclaimed. “I want to court you in return. I want us to court each other. I want to spend time with you, to share some of your burden! You should be able to rely on me!”

“I want to treat you like you should be treated,” Thorin replied, the frustration obvious on his face. “Was that not the entire point of this? To treat you like something precious. A treasure.”

“In the Shire we don’t have much use for a treasure that doesn’t do anything,” Bilbo said. “You look at me sometimes like I’m a shiny lump of rock or metal, not a person who might be of some use to you and I won’t tolerate it any more. I am too old to be treated like a gem.”

“I do not treat you like rock.”

“Sometimes when you look at me I see the same gleam in your eye that you had when you roved the halls with your gold sickness!”

As soon as Bilbo said it he regretted it. They had both avoided mentioning the gold sickness so carefully and now Thorin’s face shut down, locking him out. It was strange to see him go so completely blank so quickly.

“You really think that of me?” Thorin asked, his tone carefully neutral.

“Yes,” Bilbo said, the anger still boiling in him making words spill out that he wasn’t sure they're true. “Get out of my rooms.”

Thorin didn’t reply to that verbally but he did turn and stiffly walk out, leaving Bilbo with his anger.

***  
When Bilbo had imagined the lonely mountain prior to arriving in it, he'd envisioned a vast underground Kingdom of rock. He'd imagined tunnels and great halls and a life lived by the light of the lanterns. He'd been mostly right but what he'd failed to account for in his day dreams was that even the hardiest of Dwarves needed a little sunlight at times, no matter how much they wanted to deny it. Also, while they got the majority of their food through trade with Dale and Lake Town, a kingdom would be mad not to have some source of food of their own.

As the front of Erebor was dominated by the great gate, the back was dominated by the great gardens. The gardens were not what Bilbo thought of as gardens but a series of terraces built into the less steep side of the lonely mountain. Each was filled with troughs of rich soil, watered by an ingenious system of pipes which still worked after all this time.

Restoring the gardens had been considered low priority when they came back to Erebor but Bilbo had rather liked them and had adopted a few plots as a side-project. He was largely the only one who went out there: they were his own secret place.

Which was why, in the wake of his argument with Thorin, he took to retreating there. It was a pleasant way to spend the time, or it should be been if he hadn't felt so wretched.

He would not take back what he said to Thorin. He wouldn't. But, perhaps, if given the chance to go back and do it again he might edit the tone or the content a little. The things he'd said were things he stood but, the way he said them might have been improved.

Mostly, though, he simply missed Thorin. It had only been a few days since their argument, a few days of him stealing food from the kitchen and hiding, but he missed Thorin. Of course, since they had begun courting the other man had been a constant presence in his life, so it made sense that he missed him, but it was more than that. He missed their talks, the closeness that had been growing between them. He did miss the physicality of it, the kisses and the touches. He missed knowing that there would be someone there for him at the end of a day. Somebody who wanted to listen to him. To be with him. Missed those smiles which had become too rare since the weight of the mountain settled on Thorin’s shoulders. Missed the moments of vulnerability. Missed the heady rush of affection he got sometimes just from looking at the other man.

So he’d mostly kept to himself, which didn’t really help but at least he avoided the pitying looks of the other Dwarves. How they’d all found out so quickly he didn’t know. Well, he did. They had their blazing row next to an open door and in front of Dori but that didn’t mean the other Dwarf had to go around sharing what he’d heard…

Of course he had. And Bilbo had retreated to lick his wounds.

Maybe this was why his mother had advised him so firmly against being with another man. Maybe there was no hope for a Hobbit lad like him to ever reach a civil accord with another man. Maybe his needs just couldn’t be met like this and he was doomed to be forever alone.

He sincerely hoped he wasn’t doomed to be forever alone. Now he’d had his piece of love he wasn’t sure how to go back to living without it.

Wasn’t sure he ever could go back to being without it.

“Bilbo?”

He looked up from where he was slumped on his bench to find Kili peering around the door at him. The good thing about the terrace was that it was his space, a place he could be alone. The bad thing was that others knew to find him here. He had been hoping Thorin might come looking.

“There’s no need to hide behind the door,” he said, sitting up straighter. “It’s not you I’m cross at. Come on in. Or out, I should say.”

Kili snuck through the door, letting it fall shut behind him, and came to sit beside Bilbo. It was entirely unlike him to be so hesitant and that alone was enough to set a little worry in Bilbo’s gut. Kili definitely hadn’t come out here just to chat.

“You’d better come out and just say whatever’s on your mind,” he said, watching the youngster out of the corner of his eye. “It never gets any better for being kept in.”

“Probably not,” Kili agreed. “It’s just...it’s been a few days now and you and Uncle are still falling out.”

“We are,” Bilbo agreed. “I’d have thought that would be a common occurrence with the stubbornness of Dwarves. Thorin hasn’t sought me out yet.”

“I don’t think he will,” Kili said, carefully studying his hands. “I just...are you sure it’s just a little fight? He’s acting, well, he’s acting like you broke his heart or something, which would be, well, terrible.”

“We’re certainly still courting as far as I’m aware,” Bilbo huffed.

“But you haven’t spoken to him since you fought?”

“Why should I?” Bilbo asked. “He needs to come and apologize to me.”

“I think that, well, I think he thinks it’s too late,” Kili said, slowly. “I mean, he hasn’t been this miserable since right after the gold madness lifted. He just broods and stares into space and it’s not at all healthy. I just...I maybe overheard him talking to Dwalin last night.”

“Which of course he was doing in public where they could be easily overheard?”

“I was heading to bed,” Kili defended with a blush. “I had to go past his rooms and Dwalin, well, that door’s difficult to latch sometimes, as you know. I didn’t hear the entire conversation but they were definitely talking about you and I certainly got the impression that, as far as Thorin’s concerned, you’ve decided he’s too much trouble and, well, I think he might agree with your assessment. He said something about not deserving you…”

“Stupid Dwarf,” Bilbo mumbled. “I just wanted some space.”

“Well, you’ll be getting a lot of if unless you fix this,” Kili said with a shrug. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pass tales but I just thought you should know…”

“Thank you Kili,” Bilbo said, nodding. “I’ll need to think about this, you understand.”

“Oh, of course,” Kili said, standing up quickly. “Just, work this out soon, alright? Uncle’s an idiot sometimes but he’d had enough misery in his life. I’d like to see him smile again.”

“I much prefer his smile, too,” Bilbo confirmed. “Let me think, I’ll fix this somehow.”

Kili gave him one of those big grins of his and scampered away, letting the door bang behind him as he headed back into the depths of the mountain, probably to relay this information to a co-conspirator.

It was entirely likely that the entire story was a concoction designed to get him talking to Thorin again. He wouldn't put anything past the princes. They were capable of all sorts of things. A little lie about a broken hearted Uncle would be nothing but, lie or not, they had something right. Bilbo was going to have to make the next move if he wanted this ended. It was becoming increasingly clear that, for whatever reason, Thorin wasn’t going to come to him and, well, he didn’t hold grudges well. That wasn’t entirely true, he did in some circumstances, but not when he cared a great deal for the people involved.

He cared a great deal for Thorin.

So they were going to have to talk and he was going to have to hope it didn’t all devolve into yelling again.

***

Bilbo found Thorin exactly where he expected to find him, sat in his study buried under mountains of paper. It was a familiar sight, the Dwarf King sat there with his work before him: reports and treaties and suggestions.

He’d knocked and entered before Thorin had a chance to deny him, quickly enough to see the look of sadness on Thorin’s face become carefully blank as Bilbo came into the room.

Perhaps Kili hadn’t been lying. Maybe he really had caused an amount of grief to Thorin which was certainly beyond anything he’d meant to cause.

“Ah,” Thorin said, expression carefully neutral. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“I thought we might talk,” Bilbo said, still fidgeting in the doorway. He felt oddly like a child again, pulled into the old Took’s study to be reprimanded for some misdemeanor. “I had rather thought you might come and find me before this but you haven’t so, well, here I am.”

“I thought you didn’t want to see me.”

“Well, not immediately after the argument,” Bilbo said. “But a few hours later, maybe. We Hobbits aren’t generally very good at holding on to our anger.”

“You seem to be managing,” Thorin said, and it hurt to hear that cold tone of voice directed towards him.

“Well, maybe I’ve been learning something from you Dwarves,” he said, trying to force a small laugh. “Please, Thorin. Just...can we not do this here. Might we go sit by the fire and talk? It seems we’ve been doing a lot of getting exasperated and yelling and not enough talking and listening.”

“If you have come to end the courtship,” Thorin said, stiffly, “just tell me. You needn’t hide it in nice words.”

“It’s certainly not my intention to end the courtship,” Bilbo replied, stiffening up. “I certainly didn’t mean to give you that impression. I just...please come and sit with me.”

Reluctantly, Thorin stood, following Bilbo to the side of the fire. It was low so Bilbo stooped to put more wood on it, stirring the embers a little. Thorin settled himself on one of the couches and, after a seconds hesitation, Bilbo joined him. They’d sat here together before on similar evenings, curled in each other’s arms. It was nice.

“So,” Bilbo started. “I’m sorry about our argument. I was cross as you but that doesn’t excuse some of the things I said.”

“Why would you apologize for speaking the truth?” Thorin asked, glumly.

“I’m not apologizing for that bit,” Bilbo clarified. “You are a little overbearing, Thorin. I’m apologizing for not letting you know it in a better way, for not explaining myself better. And for, well, the comment about the gold sickness. It was unfair and uncalled for. I only said it because I knew it would hurt you, which makes me quite terrible. If you don’t want to be involved with me any more…”

“I am quite sure I do still want to be involved with you,” Thorin said; there was a little more animation to his face now and he dared to reach up to touch Bilbo’s hair.

“Good,” Bilbo said, leaning forward to press his forehead against Thorin’s. “As I am sure I want this to continue too. So, we need to talk.”

“We do,” Thorin agreed reluctantly. “Do you still hold what I did under my madness against me? You would be right to if you do but…”

“I don’t,” Bilbo assured him. “I mean...I was trying to make you see that you treat me like an object, not a being of equal status. I don’t want that, Thorin.”

“To a Dwarf, treating another like a valued gem is the highest compliment you can give them.”

“To a Hobbit, treating someone as an equal is the best way. You do think of me as an equal?”

“Of course I do,” Thorin assured him, gently cupping his face. “We would never have taken the mountain without you. If anything, you are better than us. You looked for peace when I thought only of greed and of gold.”

“The sickness…”

“My sickness is in my blood, Bilbo. It is not a cold that I can throw off, it is something that is inside me always. I feel it creeping around the corners of my mind, waiting for my will to weaken. Do you know how that is? To feel every day that there is this monster inside you. One that has already won the battle between you once. To know that at any moment you could fall to it again.”

“But you won’t.”

“But I might,” Thorin said, and there was anguish on his face. “You do not see, but I might. I thought that I was too strong, that I had seen too much, but the gold sickness still took me. I try to be better, to spend the gold for the betterment of the kingdom but sometimes I think about the money leaving my vaults and feel sick with it. How can I be fit to lead these people with this still in me?”

“You are fit to lead them,” Bilbo assured him, reaching over and wrapping his arms tightly around Thorin. He was surprised that Thorin let him, more surprised when Thorin leant into him. Just what he had wanted but not like this, never like this.

“You are fit to lead them because you know the monster inside you. Knowing it gives you power over it, Thorin. Maybe you do not control it entirely, but you can feel when it’s hard to control and seek help. I will be here to help you. The others, too. We’ll all help you. That’s all I want. To help.”

“You do help,” Thorin assured him, their lips so close. “Knowing you are here, that you forgave me, that is more help than you can understand.”

“Good,” Bilbo said, leaning in to brush a gentle kiss over his lips. “There, is it so hard to be held?” 

“No,” Thorin admitted, daring a small smile. “I would...I do not wish for the others to see me like this, I suppose. A King should be strong, should not need others.”

“All people need others,” Bilbo said, firmly. “You worry about what’s inside you, let us in there too. Let us help you. This company, haven’t they proved themselves worthy? Haven’t they stood by your side through this quest, even though at the end they knew there’d be a dragon? Haven’t they been the best of friends, the strongest of warriors, that you might hope for? Let them help you, Thorin. None of them expect you to hold up the mountain alone.”

“It is too much of a burden…”

“But I’m sure they’d all take a share of it willingly. In the Shire we say that many hands make light work. Maybe we don’t all have enough hands to make what you carry light but we can certainly take some of the weight if you let us.”

“And what part will you take?” Thorin asked with a smile.

“The part suitable for one you’re courting, of course,” Bilbo said with a sniff. “I’ll listen to your woes and care for you through them. Hold your hand when the path is dark and stand beside you. Will you let me?”

“I think I might try,” Thorin said, letting his eyes closed. “Though you may need patience with me. It shall not be easy.”

“I never expected it to be,” Bilbo said. “The best things rarely are.”

And then he leant forward to kiss Thorin, the kind of kiss he’d missed. The kind of kiss he was quickly coming to realise he didn’t want to live without.

***

That evening they entered the hall together. There was a visible relaxing of tension at the sight of the two of them, happy with each other again. It was good to see, though he hated to think their little argument had apparently caused so much stress.

When it came time to eat they sat down together straight away. There was a moment of tense negotiation where Thorin tried to hold him but Bilbo didn’t want to be held. He was feeling too full to be held close. Instead, after a moment’s negotiation, they joined hands. It wasn’t very convenient but it was contact and that was the important thing. After a while he let his head drift onto Thorin’s shoulder and Thorin smiled as though he had been gifted the greatest treasure in the world.

For a second Bilbo felt as though his heart might swell to bursting. He was here, surrounded by friends, with a partner. Someone to stand beside him, to care for him and love him and accept his love and care in return. And no, it wasn’t a perfect dream of a courtship. He was under no impression that this would be their last fight. He knew them both too well for that. There would be other arguments and other mountains between them but, maybe, that was what a courtship was. What a relationship was. Finding the ways they fit together and finding how to live with the ways that they didn’t.

Maybe the Dwarves did know better than Hobbits, maybe they were right that a courtship should be about getting to know the other as well as you could.

Maybe he couldn’t wait to find out all the things he had yet to discover about Thorin.


	3. There's always an ending.

These days it was hard for the company to all find time to eat together as often as they’d like. It wasn’t that they didn’t all try but, as Thorin had finally, grudgingly, passed out some of his responsibilities to those he trusted, it had made them all busier. There were decisions to be made and mines to be surveyed and a party of Dwarves surely on their way to join them any day which would mean rooms and more communal space and the need for a functional city.

Bilbo himself had been drawn into the flurry of activity that had accompanied the coming of spring. The food situation had been discussed and he’d been given a small party of Dwarves to tend the terraces. There was general discontent with the work: Dwarves saw it as beneath them, but progress was still being made.

Bilbo was sure that, come summer, the terraces would be beautiful to look at. They already looked better, leaves beginning to poke from some of those they’d planted first. It gave him a sense of happiness to know that, when he had gone back to his Shire, he’d still be caring for his Dwarves in some way. They’d still be eating the food he grew for them.

He tried, honestly, not to think too much about going home. Tried not to notice how the days of spring were advancing, how the chill left the air more and more each day. How ideal traveling weather would soon be upon them.

Today had been a good day. The weather had been lovely. The ground warm under his hands. Thorin had sought him out for lunch which wasn’t something there was much time for any more. They had an understanding that tonight, after the meal, they’d retire to Bilbo’s chamber which meant a quiet evening around the fire, tucked against his favorite person, sharing stories and kisses.

On top of that, every Dwarf had made it to the communal meal. Ori was sat with Dwalin as usual, though as they’d grown more comfortable in each other, more secure in the direction of their courtship, they seemed to have turned outwards more. They were still pressed together but Ori was reading a book set on the table and Dwalin and talking animatedly with Balin, their attention not entirely on each other any more.

Dori and Nori were by the fire with Oin, laughing about something. Gloin was snoring lightly in a chair nearby, it was a surprise the racket hadn’t woken him. Bifur was sat in the far corner with Bofur, both of them smoking and watching the scene. Kili and Fili were seated at the table, heads bent together as they plotted, no doubt.

And Bilbo was leaning into Thorin’s side. They sat a little way from the others, pipes in their hands, and for now Thorin seemed as content as Bilbo did to just sit and watch. To enjoy the happiness that was around them.

It felt an awful lot like home. Like what he’d been missing for years, shut up in his hobbit hole all alone. Like family.

Then the door to the kitchen opened and Bombur came in, pushing a trolley loaded with dishes. Bilbo stayed where he was for a second, letting the others scramble to set things on the table and only standing when Thorin did.

He turned to look up at Thorin to find the other man already looking down on him with a gentle smile. He beamed back and lent in for a quick kiss before taking Thorin’s hand and leading him towards the table. It said something about how far they had come that Thorin consented to let himself be lead without a word, sliding onto their usual bench after Bilbo.

Thorin served them both, his long arms making it easier for him to reach, and Bilbo struck up a conversation with Kili, hoping the young prince would spill something about whatever he’d been plotting. He felt Thorin’s arm settle around his back and leant a little into the Dwarf’s side. It was comfortable, warm.

Then the door opened with a bang.

“What’s this?” Gloin, the closest to the door, said as he turned sharply in his seat. Around the table thirteen Dwarves and a Hobbit all tensed, each reaching for the nearest weapon.

“I bring a message,” the Dwarf who had interrupted them said. He was small and pale and thin, almost no more than a child by the look of him and he’d clearly been rushing to get here. “I was told to hand it to the King under the Mountain.”

Thorin stood and strode around the table. He lacked a little in majesty as he was not wearing his fur lined coat so nothing billowed behind him but his own hair, but he still cut a very fine figure by Bilbo’s estimation.

“Give it to me, then,” he said, reaching out for the scroll. The youth placed it in his hand, backing away a few steps nervously as Thorin opened it and read. As Thorin read all the tension melted from his face and a smile overcame him instead.

“It’s good news,” he said, turning to clap the messenger on his shoulder. “The caravan traveling from the blue mountains is almost upon us. It should only be a few more days!”

The table immediately erupted into excited cries and yells. The young princes looked equally stricken and excited at the thought their mother would be with them soon. Gloin launched into a long-winded story about his son which even Bilbo had heard too many times before to really attend to. There was a general air of merriment that seemed to stretch even to Thorin, who was sending the messenger off to find food and rest with a grin.

And Bilbo was happy too, he really was. As Thorin returned he forced a smile upon his face and was ready for the enthusiastic embrace he was gifted. After all, their families were coming. His Dwarven friends would soon be surrounded by their loved ones and that was wonderful.

It would mean everything would have to change, but it was still wonderful.

***

Apparently, the delegation were to be seen home in style. Since retaking Erebor the greatest hall had not seen much use. It stank uncomfortably of Dragon for a time and even when the smell had begin to fade, it was not associated with the best memories for any of them.

Now, apparently, that was to change. Suddenly old banners were being dragged from boxes in store rooms and with a little cleaning and repair they looked just like new. Now the Dwarves who had lived in Erebor before were keen to tell the rest of the party about the great feasts they’d had in that hall. The times when everyone in Erebor, no matter how rich or poor, had a seat together at the table (though Bilbo privately suspected that some had higher seats than others).

Of course, the group now would not fill the hall but Bilbo knew a symbolic gesture when he saw one. The rightful heirs of Erebor were returning and the great hall would ring with their voices once again.

He tried his best to focus on the preparations and not on his own place in all this.

It was Fili who helped him hang most of the decorations, happily climbing places and yelling orders and generally getting in the way. They didn’t have enough to do the entire place, either in terms of banners or man power, but they did their best.

As they worked, Fili chattered about his mother. By all accounts she was a strong and beautiful woman, kind and fair but tough in equal parts. He told about how she’d reacted to his childhood exploits and Bilbo couldn’t help but think what she was going to see in him. A Hobbit of the shire, more a greengrocer than a burglar for all he stood here now.

He had a measure of respect from the Iron Hills Dwarves: they had seen him fight in the battle of the five armies after all. And of course the party respected him. He couldn’t help but wonder, though, what these new Dwarves would think of him.

Couldn’t help but wonder what Dis would think of her brother choosing him. Couldn’t help but wonder how often they’d find to spend time together now that families were arriving. Couldn’t help but wonder how Thorin would find time for him as his kingdom expanded.

Couldn’t help but wonder if it was maybe time he thought seriously about going home.

***

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Thorin said, lowering himself into one of the chairs by Bilbo’s fire. “Is something troubling you?”

“No, it’s all fine,” Bilbo said, a little too quickly to be convincing.

“Come sit with me?” Thorin asked, opening his arms. Bilbo considered for a second but, well, he wasn’t feeling happy and someone he cared for was offering comfort. Why not take it? He finished stirring the fire and then walked over, letting Thorin pull him into his arms, settling on the Dwarf’s lap. It was easy to relax into the familiar embrace. He was going to miss this when he went.

“Now, tell me what is upsetting you. Is it something I’ve done?”

“Not this time,” Bilbo said with a little smile, leaning in to kiss Thorin’s cheek. “You’ve been wonderful. I just...I suppose I’m worried about the caravan arriving.”

“And why on earth would you be worried about that?” Thorin asked, running a hand over Bilbo’s back.

“Well, it’s just a big thing is all,” he mumbled. “I’ll be meeting your sister for the first time and, well, I just suppose...it’s all going to change, isn’t it?”

“Things are going to change, yes,” Thorin admitted. “After all, we shall have many more people. Which will mean more work for all of us. My sister will be here, Gloin’s wife and son. Things can not stay just as they are but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

“I know,” Bilbo said. “I suppose Hobbits are just built for worrying. I can’t seem to help it. I’m sure it’ll all come to nothing.”

“I’m sure of that too,” Thorin agreed. “Though if you tell me what exactly is worrying you, maybe I can reassure you. Is it just my sister? I’m sure she’ll enjoy your company.”

“Well, you’re quite biased when it comes to me,” Bilbo huffed, startling a laugh from Thorin. “I’m serious. I’ve proven myself to you and your party but she doesn’t know anything about me and you hardly had a wonderful first impression of me, perhaps she will follow you in that.”

“I was too quick to judge,” Thorin agreed. “I suppose there is no way to guarantee to you that my sister won’t do the same. But I can tell you that whatever she says, it won’t affect my judgment of you. This isn’t an interview, Bilbo. You need not impress her to impress me. I have already formed my opinion of you and it’s not in question.”

“Oh, I know,” Bilbo promised, leaning in for a quick kiss. And he did know, really. He knew Thorin cared for him deeply enough that his sister’s approval wouldn’t change that.

He knew he wasn’t really worried about Dis. Not deep down. The problem was he didn’t really want to think about what he was worried about. If he was being honest, he was mostly worried about how he was going to end this courtship. How he was going to say goodbye to all this and go back to being alone. So instead he pushed the thought away, burrowing into Thorin’s arms and letting himself seek comfort.

He was on borrowed time, he should make the most of every second.

***

The caravan from the blue mountain arrived in the middle of the afternoon. Once it was sighted a message went through all Erebor, excusing everyone from their duties so they might come and welcome the returning party. Bilbo, who had been quietly reading in the library, put down his book and went to join them.

“You’re here,” Kili said, appearing at his side as soon as he emerged into the entry hall of the mountain. A lot of work had taken place here: he’d hardly recognise it from when they’d barricaded the door. Which was a good thing, he did try not to think think about those times.

“Yes, I’m here,” Bilbo said with a smile, allowing Kili to grab his arm and lead him. “Are you excited to see you mother?”

“Of course,” Kili said, moving them towards the front of the hall where the rest of the party waited. “And terrified. She’s going to be so mad when she hears some of the stories from the quest. I mean, we nearly died in the battle, she’s going to want to skin uncle for that.”

“It must be nice to have someone who cares for you so much.”

“Well, yes,” Kili agreed. “That doesn’t mean I’m not worried she’s going to tan my hide for every silly thing I’ve done since I last saw her. But it will be good to see her again.”

“I’ll just wait over here, then,” Bilbo said, trying to detach himself from Kili’s grip as they neared the side of the company.

“Don’t be stupid,” Kili said, his grip not loosening a fraction. “You’re a member of the company and you’re courting Uncle. Of course you’re going to come and stand with us.”

“Your families will hardly be excited to see me,” he protested.

“Well, no,” Kili agreed. “But it’s an honor thing. If you stand over there it’s going to look like Uncle’s ashamed of you and the part you played in the quest and that’s not something you want people to think, is it?”

“No, of course not,” Bilbo admitted. And then the time for arguments had passed as he was being deposited at Thorin’s side. Thorin looked down on him and smiled but he was distracted by the door. He was tense and Bilbo wasn’t sure if it was nerves or excitement. Thorin had chosen to come and meet his people in his every day clothing, the things he wore while on the quest as opposed to some of the more formal royal garb he’d claimed when they retook the mountain. Bilbo had been treated to a lecture on the importance of clothing and an inventory of all the royal garb still in serviceable condition before the decision had been made. The only concession to Thorin’s new status was his casual every-day crown, which had been a decision in itself as the role of King really came with far, far too many crowns for Bilbo’s taste.

He reached out and linked hands with Thorin. He was rewarded when Thorin squeezed his fingers and turned to press a distracted kiss to his forehead.

Then the doors were opening and the caravans were entering.

It was a sight, he’d give them that. The party was nearly 1000 Dwarves strong; moving them had been an interesting logistical challenge. Obviously they could not all come in at once, many had come on foot and they waited, forming an honor guard for a row of caravans that were led into Erebor first.

It didn’t take much to work out which was the Royal party’s transport. It was painted richly in Durin Blue and gold. As it drew close he squeezed Thorin’s hand again, for his own comfort this time. The moment was here when everything changed.

The door to the carriage opened and Gandalf stepped out. There was a second of confusion before he stepped aside and helped someone who must have been Lady Dis, from the reactions of the Dwarves in the mountain, dismount.

She was as different from her brother as day and night. She was small for a Dwarf, almost slender. Her hair was a dirty Blonde, her beard long and plaited in intricate ways. She wore a light blue dress and a calming smile, the kind of non-threatening person one would like immediately, as opposed to Thorin’s gruff, imposing manner.

She floated down from the carriage and came to them with a smile. She met Thorin first, pressing her forehead against his and whispering something in Khazdul which he replied to before she moved straight over Bilbo to her sons.

Bilbo had never been so relieved to be overlooked in his life.

But then the other carriages were pulling up and their passengers spilling out, the lines of the welcome parties breaking as people rushed to greet friends and family. He let himself sink back, content to watch the happiness of his friends from the side of the hall.

It didn’t take long for Gandalf to join him.

“It’s good to see you, old friend,” Bilbo said.

“You also,” Gandalf said, reaching into his robes and pulling out what Bilbo instantly recognised as a back of his favorite type of pipe weed. He snatched it quickly, stuffing it into his pocket before any nosy Dwarf could come sniffing around. “I must admit, I’m glad to still find you there. I know you intended to leave in the spring?”

“I still do. I’ve just been busy. You know how things are when there aren’t enough hands to do all the work.”

“Indeed I do,” Gandalf said with a smile. “Though that would seem to not be a problem for Erebor any longer. Of course, this is only the first caravan. Others will arrive in time but now, with these Dwarves, I think Erebor will finally start to live again.”

“I hope so. I imagine it’ll be a splendid city when it’s full again.”

“Indeed, it was in the past. Incidentally, I had hoped to find you here still as I plan to take a route from here that will lead me by the Shire. I wouldn’t mind some company for the journey.”

“When are you going?” Bilbo asked, his eyes straying to Thorin, who was smiling and talking animatedly with his sister.

“A few weeks, I should think. I wouldn’t whisk you away without a chance to say goodbye.”

“Yes, a few weeks should do it,” Bilbo said, pushing aside the ache forming in his heart. “I’d be delighted to accompany you back to the Shire.”

***

“Ah, there you are,” Thorin said cheerily, stepping back to let Bilbo into his rooms. Bilbo entered a little more reluctantly that he might normally. He allowed himself a moment to lean into the embrace that Thorin always offered when they were alone together, before forcing himself to pull away and find a chair. “You avoided me during the meal.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt your time with your sister,” Bilbo said with a shrug. He’d been quite happy sat with Gandalf, catching up. Perhaps not as happy as he would have been in the room they normally ate in, surrounded by friends, leaning against Thorin, but he was going to have to accept that he couldn’t have that any more.

“It wouldn’t have been an interruption,” Thorin said, kissing him on the forehead before settling next to him. “I’d have been glad to introduce the two of you to each other. Though, actually, maybe I should keep you away. She has some terrible stories about my youthful misadventures and I’m not sure I want them shared with you. They might ruin your image of me.”

“I think if my image of you is still good at this point then not a lot will change it,” Bilbo said with a fond smile, leaning in for a kiss. It still amazed him some days how easy this was now. He’d spent years struggling to find any kind of intimacy with other Hobbits so to have this now, he was aware of what a fragile gift it was.

He was going to treasure every second of it he had before he had to leave.

“Maybe I will let her tell you her stories, then,” Thorin said. “Did you enjoy talking with Gandalf?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said. He’d thought about this before he’d decided to come to Thorin tonight. The temptation to delay was strong but he’d found in most cases in life that honesty was the best thing and, well, if he knew their days were numbered and he must treasure every moment then Thorin should have that courtesy too. Of course, Thorin was courting him simply so Bilbo would know what it was to be courted. He didn’t have the problem of finding someone to share his affection that Bilbo did, but he still deserved to know.

“Actually, Gandalf and I talked about something you should know about.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, he intends to leave here in two weeks and, well, he says he’s planning on going by the Shire. He suggested he and I travel together and, well, it seems like a good idea.”

“Are you sure?” Thorin asked. He’d gone very still next to Bilbo but Bilbo didn’t look at him. He didn’t want to see Thorin’s face right now. He felt that as long as he didn’t see it he wouldn’t have to acknowledge what Thorin felt. He wasn’t sure if it would be better for Thorin to look devastated or elated by his leaving. “If you wish to stay for a while longer I can provide you with an escort. You needn’t leave just because Gandalf is traveling that way.”

“No. It’s not that your offer isn’t tempting but I’ve always said I’m going to leave in the spring. There’s no point putting this off, it’s time for me to go.”

“Well, I shan’t hold you back, of course,” Thorin said. Bilbo finally risked a glance at his face to find it carefully blank. He hated that, but he didn’t have any right to say anything. If Thorin didn’t choose to share his emotions, well, Bilbo could hardly demand them given the conversation they were having. “Though I shall be sad to see you leave.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Bilbo said, leaning sideways into Thorin. An arm came up to wrap around him immediately, pulling him almost too close. “I needed to tell you. Then at least we can enjoy what time we have left.”

“Yes, there is that,” Thorin agreed. “I take it you wish to continue this until you go.”

“Unless there’s a reason we shouldn’t,” Bilbo said. He honestly hadn’t even considered the possibility that they might not. After all, if the point was to give him an experience he wanted as much of one as he could have. There would be many lonely evenings to sit through when he returned to the Shire, he would make the most of this now.

“No reason at all,” Thorin said, a little more intensely than was maybe strictly necessary. “We should tell the others tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Bilbo agreed. “But, for now, might we talk about something else?”

“Gladly,” Thorin said, then wasted no time in turning the conversation back to the evening’s festivities. Bilbo appreciated it but he couldn’t help feel a tension between the for the rest of the evening. He hoped it would go away soon.

***

“Bilbo, over here!” Bilbo looked over at see Fili and Kili making their way towards him through the raised planters. He stopped and waved at them. He’d honestly been expecting them for a few days. Since he’d announced his intention to leave a little over a week ago, the Dwarves had all been seeking him out privately. Thorin had become almost like a shadow in any moment the two of them were not engaged in other duties.

He’d thought Kili and Fili might have come sooner but he was aware that these little moments were about saying goodbye. Fili and Kili probably had less experience with that than the rest of the Dwarves, which was a good thing for them, Bilbo didn’t like to think of them experiencing loss, but it was likely to make this very awkward.

“Hello,” he said as the boys finally emerged near him. “I wondered where the two of you had gotten to.”

“We’ve been making you a gift,” Kili said, his chest puffing up in pride. Bilbo blinked at that. None of the other Dwarves had come bearing gifts, he wondered if he was in for a flood of them over the next few days or if this was just something from Kili and Fili. Would they expect him to reciprocate? He didn’t have much.

“Here,” Fili said, and he pulled a sheathed blade from behind his back. He slowly drew it as Bilbo watched, showing him how wickedly sharp the blade was. This was clearly a weapon for killing, built to his scale.

“We know you have Sting,” Kili said, his tone laced with anxiety. “We just...we want to be absolutely sure you’re safe is all. So we thought, well, since we can’t go with you...”

“We forged it ourselves,” Fili said, holding the sword out for Bilbo to take. He did so, feeling the thing. He still didn’t know how to fight but the blade was light and easy to handle. He waved it experimentally through the air and it felt easy, though if the way the Dwarves were eyeing him was an indication his form needed a lot of work.

“Thank you, boys,” he said, raising his free hand to take the scabbard. “I’m traveling with Gandalf so it’s my hope I’ll never need it but I’ll treasure it.”

“It’ll make us feel better to know you’re carrying it,” Kili said.

“It’d make us feel even better to know you weren’t going to leave the mountain.”

“Kili…”

“No,” Kili said, shoving at Fili’s shoulder. There was something like resignation in the older brother’s stance, the air of an argument already held many times. “I just want to understand why you’re leaving. Aren’t you happy here?”

“I have been,” Bilbo admitted. “Very happy. These last few months…”

“Then stay! Stay with us here where you’re safe. We’ll send people for your things if you need them. Or make you new things. You don’t need to leave.”

“I’m afraid I do,” Bilbo said, looking into Kili’s eyes like he could force the prince to believe him. “I’m a hobbit, Kili. I have no place here in this mountain. I could pretend while it was only us but it’s not going to be like that anymore. Your family are here. Other dwarves who deserve a place under this mountain are here. I don’t belong here.”

“You could,” Kili insisted. “We’d make a place for you.”

“But I wouldn’t be needed. I’d have to fight every day with people who thought I didn’t have a right to be here. I’m too old for that now, Kili.”

“So you’re just going to leave us all? To leave Uncle?”

“Your Uncle understands. He always understood, I haven’t lied to him. And you’re all welcome to visit me whenever you want…”

“I just…”

“Kili,” Fili interrupted. “He’s going to go. You knew he was.”

“Yeah,” Kili admitted, scuffing his shoe against the floor. “I just…”

A strange silence fell on them and Bilbo felt the weight of his decision on his shoulders. The weight of everything he was choosing to leave behind. He knew he’d be missed but there was a difference between knowing it and seeing it. Seeing the look of defeat on Kili’s face, like he’d really thought he could talk Bilbo round and was desolated to find he couldn’t.

And the worst thing was Bilbo wasn’t sure he could offer any reassurance. Kili was a Prince, it wasn’t like he could come visiting in the Shire. Thorin almost certainly couldn’t. It was very likely that when he said goodbye to them it would be forever.

He tried to ignore how heavy his heart felt at that thought. He wasn’t very successful.

***

“I don’t even know where all these things came from,” Bilbo said with a sigh, putting another pile of books onto his desk for Ori to examine. Most of them, of course, had come from the library and needed to be returned, though some had been taken from long abandoned personal spaces. A few had been gifts from Thorin. He’d wanted to take all of those but he had a long way to go so in the end had limited himself to one.

One book to remember all this. Well, and the sword Kili and Fili had made for him. And Sting, of course.

“Things have a way of piling up,” Ori said. “When we moved here, we found some spacious rooms but I can’t seem to move for books now. I think Dori and Nori will be secretly glad when I move out and they get their space back.”

“They’re never going to be glad when you move out,” Bilbo said with a roll of his eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Well, no,” Ori snorted. “They’d keep me a child forever but given that I HAVE to become an adult some time, well, let’s say they won’t miss the books.”

“I’m sure they will,” Bilbo said, softly. He knew the Ri brothers well enough to know that they weren’t going to be happy when Ori moved out, though it was clearly coming. Unless there were some major problems in his courtship, and Bilbo wouldn’t put it past Nori to engineer some. “Either way, I’m sorry I can’t stay to see it.”

“I am too,” Ori said. “It’s nice having a friend, you know. I mean, not that the others aren’t friends, of course, but I think they all think I’m a little odd.”

Bilbo was polite enough not to mention that, by dwarf standards, Ori clearly was a little odd. After all, by Hobbit standards, he was a little odd himself. He knew what the boy meant. It was nice to have someone he could hold an intelligent conversation with about books or maps without them growing tired of him. It was nice to have a friend who didn’t comment on the fact he’d amassed a small library when really he hadn’t been here that long.

Plus, he had other things to thank Ori for. If Ori hadn’t shared his predisposition towards the love of men then he might never had come to Thorin. Might never have had these wonderful few months.

As much as Thorin would never hold deep conversations with him about a tome he’d pulled from the library shelves, they shared other things. He could talk to Thorin about things he didn’t dare speak to anyone else. His joys and sorrows. His hopes and dreams. He could depend on Thorin and Thorin could depend on him too.

Except, well, that was a lie, wasn’t it. Because he was leaving and it was likely he’d never see Thorin again.

And suddenly it was all too much. The thoughts had been in the back of his mind for days but suddenly it was too much. He was going to leave this place, this unlikely family, and he’d never see Thorin again. He’d never get to know Dis. He’d not be here for Ori and Dwalin’s wedding. He’d never get to see Fili grow into the great leader they all knew he could be. He’d miss Thorin every day.

He didn’t want to go. Oh, but he didn’t want to go.

Some of what he was thinking must have shown on his face because Ori was suddenly there beside him, hugging him tentatively, like he wasn’t sure if he was going to be welcome. And oh, the temptation was there. The temptation to blurt out his revelation. The temptation to leave Ori and go to find Thorin, to beg to stay in the mountain.

But what good would any of that do? It wasn’t as though their relationship was real; Thorin would probably just laugh at him. Well, no. Thorin would probably let him down gently. Explain that he liked Bilbo, of course. Respected him. But not like that. Not in the long term. Or surely he’d have said something by now.

And even if Thorin did let him stay here, let them continue, what would he do? How would he pass his days? There was nothing for him here.

No, he had to go. He had to. It wasn’t going to be easy but, then, the right thing often wasn’t.

“I’m fine, Ori,” he said, briefly returning his friend’s hug. “Let me help you carry those books back to the library.”

“Bilbo…”

“I don’t want to talk about it. And I really am fine. Come on, let’s not spoil this time.”

“No, I suppose we shouldn’t,” Ori said, pulling away. They collected the books in silence. Normally Bilbo would be worried that Ori wouldn’t let the subject drop but, well, he left very soon. There wouldn’t be time for Ori to follow it up.

And that was the entire problem.

***

His bag was packed and ready, sat by the door. His clothing for the next day was all laid out, complete with his weapons and the fine walking stick Dori had gifted to him at dinner which had been his last meal, though he’d tried not to think about it that way. Tried not to become tearful.

He was expecting the knock on the door. It was too late for callers, really, but it was his last night and nobody was going to comment on the propriety of his saying one last goodbye. One last private goodbye.

“Thorin,” he said, stepping aside. The King swept past him, looking regal in his formal clothing. There had been a little pomp and ceremony involved in dinner that night. He’d have preferred to have had just the members of the company, and the fourteen of them had retired together for after dinner drinks, but first there’d been the formal meal to send him of. There would be a proper formal departure tomorrow too. He was dreading it.

He was dreading a lot of things that would come over the next few days. He tried not to think about it.

As Thorin went about removing his Royal outer-garments Bilbo watched out of the corner of his eye under the guise of preparing a drink. Thorin cut an imposing figure in his official clothing, someone to be respected and feared in equal measure. There was something very comforting about watching him remove all that. Strip away the pomp and circumstance and become the Dwarf Bilbo admired so much. The one he always was underneath.

He waited until Thorin was down to his cotton shirt before approaching. Thorin cut an impressive figure as King but he cut as much finer one like this.

“Here,” Bilbo said, holding out the glass. “I opened some of the good stuff.”

“Thank you,” Thorin said. He took the glass and took a small sip of it though his eyes never left Bilbo. Bilbo hoped this wasn’t about to get unpleasant. He’d imagined how this conversation might go a million times and he was quite confident it would be nice but there was always the possibility that Thorin might disagree. Might find the need to impress upon him how this affair was now over, or to be kept secret. He didn’t want to have that conversation.

“Thorin,” he said, nervously turning his own glass between his fingers.

Thorin placed his glass on the table, barely touched. He reached over and removed Bilbo’s glass from his unresisting fingers and placed it next to his own. Then he stepped forward, taking Bilbo’s face between his hands and pressing their foreheads together. It was so intimate Bilbo felt all the breath leave his lungs. He wasn’t to be scolded, then.

“Bilbo Baggins,” Thorin said. “I thank you greatly for doing me the honor of this courtship.”

“Oh, well, it was no problem,” Bilbo mumbled, blushing. Thorin smiled, though there was a certain tension about it that Bilbo wasn’t used to seeing.

“I shall miss you, my friend.”

“I’ll miss you too,” Bilbo admitted, bringing his hands up to hold Thorin’s elbows, as though he could keep them close like that. Could trap them here in this moment forever. “I shall think of you, you know. When I’m back in the shire.”

“Fondly, I hope.”

“Very fondly.”

“Then might I have one last kiss to remember you by?” Thorin asked. As if there was a chance he might be refused. Bilbo had never refused his kisses yet and he didn’t intend to start now. He pressed forward, bringing one hand up to Cup Thorin’s cheek as they kissed, softly as first and then with passion. As always, Bilbo felt himself melt under the other man’s hands. If this was what it was always like with a man he could see the sense of his mother’s rules, he’d have spent his entire life kissing and nothing would have ever been done.

So he supposed he would get many things done for the rest of his life, as he would never have this again. Never again have someone hold him close. Never again be kissed.

And, if he was honest, he knew this didn’t just feel so wonderful because he was kissing a man. No other man would make him feel like this. He felt this way because he was kissing Thorin Oakenshield. The stubborn, pig-headed man that he loved. Was kissing him for the last time. Holding him for the last time.

He didn’t realise that he’d begun to cry until Thorin pulled back far enough to kiss the tears from his eyes and his cheeks, whispering words into his skin in the Dwarven language as he did so. It was so tender, so loving that it only made him cry harder.

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo said. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”

Thorin didn’t reply but to return to Bilbo’s mouth for another soul stealing kiss. Bilbo gave himself up to it entirely, wrapping himself as tightly around Thorin as he could. This kiss would have to hold him through many dark nights, after all.

He tangled his hands in Thorin’s hair, wished the locks would wrap around him and keep him here. Thorin’s arms were around him, pressed into his back, stroking. Rubbing. Moving. Then one moved a little lower and, ever so hesitantly, cupped his bottom.

Thorin pulled back to look at Bilbo, the offending hand still in place. Bilbo was sure that he was bright red, felt as though his skin might catch fire at any moment.

A question hung in the air for a second. An invitation. There was a moment of decision where they could still pull apart. Bilbo could bluster and back away and Thorin would let him go and they would say goodnight and everything would be as it should be. It would be the proper thing to do.

But the truth was that, in this one thing, Bilbo was irredeemably greedy. He wanted every inch of Thorin he could have. Every second he was allowed. He suspected that what was on offer between them was something that shouldn’t pass between two people outside of a marriage bed but, well, there would never be a marriage bed for him. Never be the chance to do this properly so should he be forced to abstain forever? Would that make the world a better place?

He was sure he wouldn’t be the first Hobbit to do something not strictly proper in this regard and, well, at least there wouldn't be any accidental pregnancy.

He leant in and kissed Thorin again and Thorin welcomed his kiss eagerly, squeezing Bilbo’s bottom which felt wonderful. Definitely the right choice. He untangled a hand from Thorin’s hair and slid it down Thorin’s body, feeling the strong muscles of his back and chest. They felt wonderful. Then he dared to slip his hand lower and, hesitantly, touched Thorin as he had been touched. It shouldn't have felt as good as it did but if the little moan Thorin gave was any indication then nobody was complaining.

From there he let his hands wander again. He was only going to have the one chance to touch so he intended to make the most of it. He mapped every inch that he could reach of Thorin’s broad back. He ran his hands over Thorin’s chest, felt the muscles hidden under the light cotton shirt. He slid his hands along Thorin’s arms, trying to memorise the way his muscles moved as he pulled Bilbo tight against him.

Then Thorin was backing away from the kiss, leaving him with short, sweet parting kisses and Bilbo was almost ashamed of the needy sound he made.

“Bilbo,” Thorin said, gently, bringing his hands around to rest on Bilbo’s chest. “We should stop…”

“We’ll never have another chance,” Bilbo pointed out. “I’ll never have another chance. I won’t...well, obviously if you don’t want to I would never hold that against you but please don’t stop on my account.”

“Are you sure?” Thorin asked, reaching up to stroke his face. “I can show you if you like but you must be sure.”

“I am,” Bilbo said, though he wasn’t quite as sure as all that. “You forget, this is forbidden in the Shire. I’ll probably never leave there again, this may be my only chance. But even if it wasn’t, I’d want this with you.” That, at least, was entirely true. He’d dreamed about boys before but never wanted someone as intensely as he wanted Thorin.

A part of him knew this was it, now. He wasn’t old but he was old enough now that this would likely be his last love. He wanted everything. Wanted someone he loved to share this with and he would never love again as he loved Thorin now.

“Then I will make sure you enjoy this,” Thorin said. Bilbo reached out his hand and Thorin took it, leading him slowly through the door into the bedroom. Bilbo followed, forcing down the butterflies in his stomach. It was all going to be alright. Thorin would take care of him.

Bilbo’s bed was a large, regal thing. Far too much for a Hobbit alone but it seemed almost small as Thorin pulled him onto it. Thorin, who reached for his waistcoat and began to unbutton it. Bilbo went to help and realised his hands were shaking.

Thorin seemed to realise too, as he stopped, took Bilbo’s hands and lifted them to his lips. He kissed them and then looked up at Bilbo so earnestly.

“You know that there is still time to change your mind?”

“Of course,” Bilbo said, flushing. “I don’t intend to change my mind, Thorin. I want this. I’m just nervous.”

“If you need me to stop…”

“I need you to start,” Bilbo interrupted. “Please. Trust me to know what is too much. I won’t let you hurt me. I don’t think you would.”

“Never intentionally,” Thorin said, looking far more serious than the situation called for. Then he went back to the task of removing Bilbo’s clothing. Bilbo took a deep breath and helped him, discarding waistcoat and then shirt until he was exposed. He might have felt cold but for Thorin being so near, looking at him so intently as though Bilbo were some treasure he’d unearthed, not a middle aged Hobbit who’d regained some of his pre-quest paunch since they’d settled in the mountain.

“Here,” he said, tugging at Thorin’s shirt as a distraction. “Fair’s fair.”

“It is,” Thorin agreed, taking his eyes off Bilbo long enough to pull of his own shirt. He was magnificent, obviously, and for a second Bilbo felt ashamed next to him. Before the feeling could properly take hold Thorin was toppling them back among the sheets and moving to straddle Bilbo and there was no mistaking what they intended to do now. Not when Thorin leant over and began to press kisses to his exposed stomach.

It felt so wonderful, all Bilbo could do was lie there and feel. Thorin’s mouth was hot and wet, his body overwhelming as it pressed down on Bilbo’s. There was certainly a level of interest developing in Bilbo’s britches that couldn't be mentioned in polite company.

Then Thorin’s mouth found Bilbo’s nipple and Bilbo cried out quite involuntarily. He’d never known them to be so sensitive but Thorin’s mouth on them somehow made them feel more alive, as though his entire being was focused on the sensation.

And then Thorin cupped him through his britches and his entire world focused on something else entirely.

“Stop,” he gasped. “Please, or this will be over before it begins. I want to touch you.”

Thorin pulled back looking deeply content. Of course he did, he probably enjoyed the reaction he’d caused. Bilbo felt himself blushing again, which seemed only to cause Thorin to lean in and kiss his warm cheeks.

“You can, of course, touch me however you like,” Thorin said sitting back. Bilbo hesitated a second before moving. He pushed Thorin and was pleased when the other man went where he was put, lying back and letting Bilbo reverse their positions. Once Bilbo was seated upon him he almost didn’t know where to start. Then he looked at Thorin who was smiling at him with such an open look of adoration that Bilbo could only lean over and kiss him gently on the lips.

From there he trailed down Thorin’s neck to his shoulders. He kissed along the Dwarves collarbone and down his stomach. It was quite as hairy as the rest of him, Bilbo was pleased to see. Thorin’s nipples were also wonderfully responsive, though maybe not as much as his own.

Then he was down to Thorin’s stomach and as he kissed he reached down and began unlacing Thorin’s britches. Thorin didn’t protest so he carried on until they were loose and then he slid his hand inside.

It was immediately clear that Thorin was bigger than him in this area as well, though not by as much as Bilbo had feared. He was short and fat there and very erect. Bilbo desperately wanted to look, wanted to do something but he wasn’t sure what.

Thorin seemed to sense his hesitation as the Dwarf’s hands were back, directing him up Thorin’s body. He went, allowing himself to be guided into another long kiss. It was heaven. He would happily stay there forever.

“Are you sure you want this?” Thorin whispered again his lips. “We can still stop.”

“I’m sure,” Bilbo said, letting his eyes drift closed. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was agreeing to but he was sure Thorin wouldn’t hurt him.

“Then we should remove our britches.”

Bilbo scrambled to obey, pulling his down and then throwing them from the side of the bed while Thorin did something similar. He looked even more impressive without any clothing. Really, Bilbo decided very quickly that it was a great shame Thorin ever got dressed at all. Surely there must be some way to let such a beautiful Dwarf be naked at all times.

Much more beautiful than himself, small and pale as he was, but Thorin was still looking at him like he was a wonder. Thorin was pulling him back in like he couldn’t stand for them to be out of each other’s arms for more than a few minutes. Thorin was kissing him like Bilbo’s kisses were air and he was drowning.

“There is so much I would show you,” Thorin whispered, running his hand down Bilbo’s sides. “I didn’t think. We should have been like this from the beginning, then I could have shown you every pleasure your body can give you.”

“I know a few of them,” Bilbo blushed. “I’m not naive.”

“I know,” Thorin said, stroking a possessive hand over Bilbo’s back. “But I am the only one who has ever given you this pleasure. You should know the difference between the theory and the practice.”

“Well, yes,” Bilbo admitted. “And maybe my theoretical knowledge isn’t as deep as it might be. I didn’t, well, what was the point of learning about a thing I couldn’t do? Maybe imaginings might be better than learnings. I’ve imagined what we might do together. Though I’m sure I don’t know the full extent of what’s possible.”

“And I wish I had time to teach you the full extent of what is possible. Given that we only have tonight, is there one thing above all others you’d like to do?”

“I...I don’t know,” Bilbo admitted. He’d thought about it a million times but, well, there was no one thing he wanted above all else and a small part of him felt foolish. Felt as though Thorin would laugh as his undeveloped desires.

“Then let me show you something,” Thorin said, leaning on to kiss his cheek. “If you don’t like it tell me.”

“I’m sure I’ll like it,” Bilbo said with a little laugh. Thorin just smirked and gently pushed Bilbo onto his back. Bilbo went, smiling at the ceiling as Thorin began kissing him again. This time, though, he didn’t stop when he reached Bilbo’s stomach. Instead he carried on and for a second Bilbo couldn’t breath as Thorin kissed him where he’d never imagined he might be kissed.

And then Thorin took him into his mouth.

Bilbo’s entire world was wetness and warmth and sensation. He could barely process it, the pressure of Thorin’s tongue. The gentle suction. It was all too much. He didn’t know how long it took but in an embarrassingly short time he was overcome by the most intense orgasm of his life.

In the wake of his orgasm his limbs felt like jelly. All he could do was lie there and breathe as Thorin pulled back with an obscene pop, wiping his mouth with the back his his hand. Bilbo wanted to kiss him so intensely then but couldn’t quite find the strength to move. Thorin must have become a mind reader, though, as he lent over to initiate a kiss. Thorin tasted strange and wonderful and Bilbo wanted this all the time. This feeling of lightness, of happiness. This closeness with another living thing.

And then Thorin was pulling back and Bilbo watched as he wrapped his hand around his own member.

“Oh, no,” he said, surprised at his his own voice sounded. “Please, let me.”

“You don’t need to…”

“I want to,” Bilbo breathed, forcing himself onto his elbows. And he did. He wanted to give Thorin at least some measure of the pleasure he’d just been given. He wanted his hands burned into Thorin’s memory as Thorin’s mouth was now in his.

Thorin just nodded, then swung to straddle Bilbo again. He was thick and heavy between them and Bilbo reached up to touch it, hesitantly at first and then with more confidence as Thorin responded. It did not take that long to have Thorin shaking over him, mumbling curse words and words of affection as Bilbo worked him until he came too, spilling over Bilbo’s stomach and chest in a magnificent arc and then collapsing to the side.

“Was it alright?” Bilbo asked, turning and kissing Thorin on the cheek. He knew, of course, that it was by Thorin’s reaction but it was still gratifying to receive the mumbled affirmative.

“Come on,” he said, reaching over and tugging until he had Thorin the right way around to throw a blanket over him. He sat for a few seconds and stared. He had done it. He’d had sex with someone. Someone wonderful who he cared about deeply. who he loved.

Someone he was leaving tomorrow.

He’d not have changed a second of it for anything.

He leant over and kissed Thorin’s brow before retreating to the wash stand to clean up. Thorin was already out when he came back to the bed. Now the immediacy of it had worn away Bilbo wasn’t quite so tired as he had been. He felt almost energised by it, though the opposite was obviously true for Thorin.

For a few minutes he allowed himself the pleasure of just looking. Thorin was beautiful and he was here in Bilbo’s bed. Bilbo would never have this again, he was justified in reveling in it now. He just wished they’d done this earlier.

He wished a lot of things.

After a few minutes he forced himself to slide under the covers. Thorin grunted and reached for him, pulling him into a warm embrace and Bilbo settled into it. As a way to spend his last night in Erebor he could think of nothing better.

***

Bilbo was very careful not to wake Thorin. He knew he probably should, that he should probably give Thorin one last chance to say goodbye, but what could Thorin possibly say that they hadn’t said last night? What could any of the Dwarves possibly say to him that hadn’t already been said?

No, he couldn’t face the long goodbye. Not today. So he crept around his room, changing into his traveling clothes as quietly as he could. He spared himself one last long look at Thorin’s face, one last soft kiss on his forehead, then he headed to the door. His pack was too heavy but he shouldered it anyway. The swords were clunky at his side. He took the walking stick in his hand and then slipped out the door.

As he’d suspected, he found Gandalf waiting by the front gate of Erebor, ready to travel.

“You’re early,” Bilbo commented, taking of the reigns of the pony he was offered.

“I know you, my friend,” Gandalf said with a smile. “I believe I am exactly on time.”

“Maybe you are,” Bilbo said and, with one last glance over his shoulder at the halls of Erebor, he followed Gandalf out into the world.

***

“It would appear we are being pursued.”

“Yes, I rather thought so,” Bilbo said with a sigh. They were nearing the border of Mirkwood at a nice sedate pace and so far their journey had been almost entirely uninterrupted. He’d known it was too good to last. The figure in the distance was undeniably drawing closer. They could slip into the woods and lose whoever it was but as it seemed the rider was heading this way, well, maybe it was important.

“Should we wait for them?” Bilbo asked. “I mean, it could be anything…”

“If you wish,” Gandalf replied with a lazy shrug. Bilbo sighed and dismounted his pony rather grudgingly. He still hadn’t quite gotten used to the thing and would have preferred to use his own legs but he knew there was a long way to go.

“I rather think we should. Besides, I’d rather camp out here than in the woods and we won’t get much further today anyway.”

“A wise choice,” Gandalf said with a nod. Bilbo just rolled his eyes and set about making camp. He hoped that the messenger was for him and not just passing this way. He’d feel a fool if she’d stopped them for no reason but, well, why else would someone be heading in this direction? The main path the Dwarves had been using entered the woods South of where they were, this way was only best if someone planned to visit Behorn on their way, as he and Gandalf did.

A small part of him wanted this to be for him very badly. The small, traitorous part that questioned just now necessary it was for him to be our here camping on the border of Mirkwood on the way back to the Shire where we would never be fully accepted, when he could be in Thorin’s bed.

The longer he stared at the figure coming towards them the more he thought back, something he’d been trying very hard not to do. Every time he thought about the mountain he felt a twist in his stomach. A strange kind of home-sickness which was odd, as Erebor was not his home.

But, then, it wasn’t the mountain he missed. Not really. More the Dwarves. More one Dwarf, specifically.

He was trying very hard not to think about Thorin, about the way it had been and the way it had ended, but it seemed like the more he tried not to think about it, the more his mind seemed intent on replaying every little detail. Every touch, every moment. And it was good because he certainly didn’t want to forget it, not when he was going back to the Shire to live alone again, but at the same time he didn’t need to remember everything all the time.

He set about cooking for them, making sure to lay on enough for three. They’d been rather weighed down by enough food to get through the woods but he hadn’t wanted to risk it, packing away every last crumb he could fit. It was worth the extra effort of the weighty burden after what happened last time.

As the figure drew closer the light faded so Bilbo still couldn’t make out who it was. A Dwarf, certainly, but he’d known that already. It wasn’t until the rider came up by the fire and dismounted that he finally got a good look at their face.

Thorin.

“Oh,” he said, springing to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

“Following you,” Thorin said gruffly, casting a look over his shoulder at Bilbo. “I’m glad I caught you before you entered the woods or I might have lost you.”

“I’m glad we waited,” Bilbo said a little weakly. His heart was pounding in his chest, he’d thought maybe the message might have been from Thorin but he’d never expected the King to come after him in person. After all, Thorin was a very important man. He had many things to do.

“Come,” Thorin said, casting a suspicious glance at Gandalf. “I’d like to speak to you alone.”

“Oh, alright,” Bilbo said, hoping he didn’t sound too thrown by the entire thing. He followed Thorin who had turned and strode towards the tree line. Gandalf gave him a knowing smile as he went but he tried to ignore it.

Thorin lead him right out of the light of the fire and into the trees. He carried on until they were out of Gandalf’s line of sight, though Bilbo thought that somehow Gandalf would know what they were doing anyway.

When Thorin finally stopped Bilbo nearly walked into him but Thorin didn’t let that bother him. Instead he used the moment to pull Bilbo tightly into his arms and Bilbo couldn’t help but go. Couldn’t help but bring his arms up to wrap around Thorin, to hold on to him tightly in the darkness.

“Did you come to say goodbye?” Bilbo asked. “I’m sorry for leaving without telling you, I just couldn’t stand it.”

“I understand,” Thorin whispered into his ear. “But I am not here to say goodbye to you.”

“Then why…”

Thorin took a step back and Bilbo would protest the loss but something was being drawn from Thorin’s coat and thrust into his hands. A book. The light was too poor for him to read it but the leather of the cover was soft with wear: something personal and treasured, then. Involuntarily Bilbo’s mind flashed to a conversation he and Thorin had early in the courtship about ways to successfully end a courtship but it couldn’t be…

“I am here to propose marriage,” Thorin said, and Bilbo would bet any money that if he had light to see, Thorin’s cheeks would be red with a blush.

“Thorin,” he said, softly, turning the book in his hand. “I’m leaving.” He knew he should hold out the book, press it back into Thorin’s grip but somehow he was unable to.

“I need you to stay,” Thorin said, reaching up in the dark to cup Bilbo’s jaw. “Please, Bilbo. I...I thought when I began this courtship that I would be able to release you at the end. I’ve courted before and been able to let them all go when they did not want me but you...I can’t stop thinking of you. I need you, my heart. Please come back with me.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Bilbo admitted. “But, Thorin, I can’t. I have a home in the Shire.”

“I’ll make you a new home here. I can give you anything that you need. Anything that you want. Please, Bilbo. I...you need not agree to marry me now. I know it’s too soon but you are my one. I am certain of it.”

“I can’t be your one. We argue too much.”

“Yes, we argue,” Thorin said. “I’m sure we’ll argue again in the future if you stay. I’m sure I’ll make you furious at me without knowing what I’ve done. I’m sure you’ll make mistakes. But we will forgive each other. A relationship isn’t about being perfect, Bilbo, it’s about knowing the imperfections and loving the person anyway. That is the entire point of a Dwarven courtship.”

“Then I suppose I like your way of doing things,” Bilbo admitted. He drew a deep breath. It was tempting. So tempting. He felt better now in this moment than he had since he’d snuck from bed. Even with the darkness and the forest. He was convinced now that where Thorin was, his home was. Convinced that he loved the Dwarf. But it wasn’t enough.

“Thorin,” he said, leaning their foreheads together. “I….I love you. I really do and it’s important to me that you know that but I can’t come back with you. What would I do?”

“You would tend our gardens,” Thorin said, the answer ready on the tip of his tongue. “You would work in the library with Ori, help him bring some order to the vast array of maps housed there. You would stand with Dis and Fili at my side in boring council meetings and remind me of the need to be level headed and hold my temper in check. You would counsel me and I would listen to your advice, though I haven’t always done so in the past. You would sleep in my bed and every day I would know how lucky I was to be chosen by you.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Bilbo said. He felt lost. He’d never really considered this. Marriage. The idea that someone might even want such a thing from him was almost laughable but, yet, here was Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, asking for his hand. Asking him to come back.

He wasn’t sure how he’d cope as an adviser, or as a librarian, or as a gardener. He wasn’t sure how he’d get on with Dis, if he must. Or how he’d win the respect of all the new Dwarves arriving in Erebor, but he knew all those problems were minuscule compared to the way he felt when he thought about waking next to Thorin every day for the rest of his life.

He didn’t want to go home to a hole that wasn’t his home any more. He didn’t want to live the rest of his life in a society that would never accept him. He didn’t want to spend his life regretting saying goodbye to the man he loved he he didn’t have to. He would regret it every day if he rode away now, he knew that.

“Alright,” he said softly. “Alright, I’ll stay. I’ll marry you. Whatever you like.”

“Really,” Thorin said, apparently taken aback by this turn of events, and Bilbo couldn’t help a joyous little laugh bubbling out of him.

“Yes, really. Unless you plan to take your proposal back.”

“Never.”

“Then I suppose you should kiss me before I change my mind,” Bilbo said, still laughing as Thorin did just that. This was crazy and wonderful and he wasn’t entirely convinced that he wouldn’t regret it tomorrow but for now he was the happiest Hobbit in the world and that was enough for him.

***

Bilbo would have liked to have creept back into the mountain, would have preferred that nobody had noticed that he had left and come back. He’d have liked for them all to pretend it had never happened and for things to have carried on just as they were.

Of course, Thorin wouldn’t hear of that. They rode back in through the main gate where everyone could see them. It wasn’t long before he was inundated with Dwarves wanting to welcome him back and congratulate him on his engagement, though they seemed a bit surprised with how quickly that had come about.

Bilbo let them crowd him. He took their ribbing about how long he’d been able to stay away from the mountain in good grace. He accepted their thanks gladly.

It was strange and overwhelming and he knew it would be for some weeks. He would have to actually engage with the new Dwarves who were here now. He would have to think about what he intended to do with his life. He had a wedding to plan in a culture that was not his own and which would be very high profile, which was going to be interesting.

But then he looked at Thorin and suddenly everything seemed better. Everything seemed manageable.

And in the evening they retired together to Bilbo’s room and lost themselves under the sheets and Bilbo knew he’d made the right choice. He was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright. So, that ending. I kind of...I wrote it to the point where Bilbo leaves. Then I wrote the rest. And then I hummed and ahhhhed, which is why this took so long to post. I think it's a better story if you stop when Bilbo leaves. But that lacks the emotional payout I expect from fic I read and that I want to give all of you. Ultimately I decided to post the happy ending as to me fic is about giving yourself that space where everything can be alright. Where true love wins and everyone is happy and things work out, even if that isn't the most authentic end to the story. If this means this story isn't for you I'm sorry, pretend it ends earlier. I just couldn't find it in me to write a story without a happy ending.


End file.
